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UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PUBLICATIONS 

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
VOLUME 1 OCTOBER, 1920 



THE POEMS OF HENRY HOWARD 
EARL OF SURREY 



FREDERICK MORGAN 'PADELFORD 




UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PRESS 
SEATTLE 



UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PUBUC/fTIONS 

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 



Board of Editors 

Allen R. Ben ham Thomas K. Sidey 

George W. Umphrey 

Volume 1. The Poems of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, Unbound, $2.00; Bound, $3.00 

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ERRATA 

Page 16, line 10, alter to read : a lad of no birth but of marked talent. 

Page 20, eight lines from the foot. Read: murdrcrs for murdres. 

Page 20, seven lines from the foot, alter to read: With egre thurst to 
drynke thy guyltles blood. 

Page 38, second line from the foot, alter to read : & seithe eke. Oft in 
her lappe she holds. 

Page 41, eight lines from the foot. After verbs add : adjectives as nouns, 
and verbs as nouns. 

Page 41, six lines from the foot. Read: zvanne for ivarm. 

Page 44, line 12. For Claire read Clere. 

Page 65, Poem 27, line 1. Read gilt I esse for glitlesse. 

Page 67. Running head : Love Poems. 

Page 175, Textual Notes to 58. Add: H 155 Or for A. 



UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PUBLICATIONS 

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
VOLUME 1 OCTOBER, 1920 



THE POEMS OF HENRY HOWARD 
EARL OF SURREY 



FREDERICK MORGAN PADELFORD 

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UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PRESS 
SEATTLE 

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To 

J. E. P. 

Cum tot siistineas et tanta negotia sola 

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PREFACE 

It is now rather more than a century since George Frederick Nott published 
his elaborate edition of the works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. Since then 
no scholarly edition has been attempted. During this time, however, many facts 
bearing upon the career of Surrey have come to light, a noteworthy biography 
has been published, studies dealing with various phases of the poetry have ap- 
peared, and manuscript versions of many of the lyrics and two fresh texts of 
the fourth book of the JEneid have been discovered. The time therefore seems 
ripe for a new edition that will take advantage of this fresh knowledge, giving 
more authoritative readings in the poems and furnishing the equipment needed by 
the scholar. The present volume aims to meet this need. 

I have classified the poems by subject-matter rather than by metrical forms, 
thinking that this classification may furnish a more human approach. I trust 
that this arrangement, as well as the titles which I have supplied in place of the 
long traditional titles in Tottel's Miscellany, will meet with the reader's approval. 
For the convenience of those who wish to make a critical study of the transla- 
tion of the Aineid, I have printed Tottel's version of the fourth book and a ver- 
sion based upon the text in Manuscript Hargrave 205, on opposite pages. The 
latter version departs from the manuscript readings only where there is strong 
presumptive evidence that the revisions restore the original. If these revisions 
have been based upon correct reasoning, this text should approximate Surrey's 
original version, and should be regarded as the authentic one. If I have erred 
in restoring the text, it has been on the side of conservatism. The early spellings 
have been consistently followed throughout, but the punctuation is modern. 

Students of Surrey will appreciate how much the Introduction owes to 
Bapst's scholarly biography of the poet and how much the Critical Notes owe 
to the researches of former scholars, notably to Koeppel's examination of the 
Italian sources. 

I acknowledge with much gratitude my indebtedness to Miss Gladys D. 
Willcock of the Royal Holloway College, a new scholar in the English field, who 
very kindly furnished me with the proof sheets of her collation of the variants 
in the 1554 edition of the fourth book of the Mneid, this expediting the com- 
pletion of the notes. I would also express my obligations, both longstanding 
and recent, to John A. Herbert, Esquire, of the British Museum, who placed 
in my hands the principal manuscript of Surrey's lyrics just after its purchase 
by the Museum in 1905, and who has more recently secured for me rotographs 
of rare manuscripts and books. To the Harvard Library I am indebted for the 
loan of the works of Gawin Douglas. Finally, I wish to recognize the many 
helpful suggestions of my colleague, Professor Vernon L. Parrington, and to 
thank my secretary, Mrs. Lois J. Wentworth, for assistance in revising the proofs. 

With this volume the University inaugurates a new series of publications, 

which we hope will contribute to the advancement of scholarship in the field of 

letters 

Frkderick Morgan Padelford. 

Seattle, October 20, 1920. 

(3) 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 
Introduction Page 

The Dramatic Career of Surrey 7 

Surrey's Contribution to English Verse 37 

Poems 

Love Poems 45 

Autobiographical Poems 68 

Moral and Didactic Poems 77 

Elegiac Poems 80 

Translations from the Bible 83 

Translations from the Mneid 97 

Notes to the Introduction 166 

Table of Abbreviations 168 

Textual Notes 169 

Critical Notes 179 

Bibliography . 219 

Glossary 223 

Appendix 233 

Index of First Lines 237 



(5) 



INTRODUCTION 

The Dramatic Career oe Surrey 

The poems of Surrey are the lyrical accompaniment of an impressive trag- 
edy. It is the wont of the historian, to be sure, to regard these poems mainly 
as furnishing an interesting chapter in the development of English verse tech- 
nique, or as marking the entrance of the Italian tradition into our literature. Yet 
to approach them with this restricted interest is to forego the more lively pleas- 
ure for one that is academic and slighter. Rather, they should be read while the 
imagination is filled with the tragedy of the young poet's life, a tragedy of superb 
depth and range, from which these poems were thrown off like chance sparks. 
Never was there Greek hero who better satisfied than did Surrey the classical re- 
quirements of the tragic muse : a young nobleman, favored by birth and by for- 
tune, the most brilliant and engaging figure in a distinguished court, ambitious, 
resourceful, and impatient to give full expression to his powers, yet compelled to 
reckon with a tyrannical superior who would brook not the faintest semblance of 
a rival. Even so — and here the ironical laughter of the gods is heard the loud- 
est — , had the culminating events in the tragedy been delayed but a few days, the 
life of the hero would have been spared through the death of his foe. The his- 
tories of the great families that supplied the Greek dramatists with the materials 
for their plays provide no example of a career more ideally designed for the 
uses of tragedy. 

Now from the first naive enthusiasms of youth to the moment when, at the 
age of twenty-nine, he felt death's hand closing around him, Surrey turned to his 
poetry for companionship, for delight and consolation, and although only a few 
of the poems are autobiographical in the stricter sense, the poet yet revealed 
through the idealizing medium of his verse the substantial outlines of his charac- 
ter and of his career. True artist that he was, he enfolded himself for the most 
part in the half-concealing envelope of his art, but the poems are only the more 
fascinating because the man Surrey, who stands out boldly in an occasional poem, 
is in others only a half -revealed, though a very certain presence. The reader 
should therefore approach the poetry with no mere scientific or antiquarian in- 
terest, but as seeking therein the key to a life, brilliant and brief, which was of 
the very essence of the dramatic. 

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, was probably born in 1517.^ He was the 
eldest son of Thomas Howard, afterward third Duke of Norfolk, by his second 
wife Elizabeth, daughter of Edward Stafford, the ill-fated Duke of Buckingham. 
Surrey was thus born in the purple, for the Howards and the Staffords repre- 
sented the highest nobility of the realm. The rise of the Howard family dates 
back to a shrewd marriage in the early years of the fifteenth century when a 
certain Robert Howard married Margaret Mowbray. This Margaret Mowbray 
could boast the royal blood of three realms, for she was descended paternally 
from Thomas de Brotherton, Earl of Norfolk, Earl Marshal, last son of Edward 

(7) 



8 The Poems of Surrey 

I, by his second wife, Margaret of France ; and maternally from Edward I by his 
first wife, Eleanor of Castile. The father of Margaret Mowbray had inherited 
the Brotherton estate, augmented by gifts from Richard II, and the hereditary 
titles of Grand Marshal and Earl of Norfolk. This title of Earl of Norfolk 
had later been raised to that of Duke of Norfolk. 

Upon the extinction of the Mowbray family in 1483, Richard III made 
John Howard, the son of Robert, Duke of Norfolk, gave him the Mowbray 
estates and the title of Earl Marshal, and conferred upon his son, Thomas, the 
title of Earl of Surrey. John Howard repaid Richard by taking part in the plot 
to murder the princes in the Tower, and by giving up his life on Bosworth Field. 

When Henry VII became king, Thomas Howard, the son, was imprisoned and 
shorn of his titles and property. He succeeded in winning the confidence of the 
sovereign, however, and shortly became a favorite and confidant. His policy 
was to uphold the one on the throne, and consequently, before the death of 
Henry, the hereditary titles and all of the estate had been restored to the Hovv-ard 
family, and Howard had even succeeded in obtaining the hand of the Queen's 
sister, Lady Anne Plantagenet, the third daughter of Edward IV, for his son 
Thomas. This Duke of Norfolk, like all of the Howards, was a rigorous soldier 
but a poor diplomat. When seventy years of age he sent a taunting message to 
James IV of Scotland, and then won the brilliant victory of Flodden Field. But 
he was no match for the adroit Wolsey in the game of diplomacy and was forced 
to buckle under to this low-born politician. It is eloquent testimony to the way 
in which the Tudors reduced the leaders of the old families to dignified officials 
entirely dependent upon the crown that, though the Duke of Norfolk was given 
nominal charge of the kingdom while Henry VIII was absent at the Field of the 
Cloth of Gold, in the following year, 1521, he was forced to preside at the trial 
of Buckingham, a life-long friend, the head of a family from which he had 
sought a wife for his eldest son, and a nobleman with whose irritation at the ag- 
grandizement of the King he was in full accord. 

Thomas Howard, the third Duke of Norfolk, followed in the footsteps of 
his father. He excelled in arms but was weak in diplomacy. He was employed 
in military campaigns against Scotland, Ireland and France, favored the divorce 
of Queen Katharine, presided at the trial of his niece, Anne Boleyn, and arranged 
for her execution, waxed fat on the dissolution of the monasteries, hated Wolsey 
and Cromwell, allowed himself to be outwitted by Thomas Seymour, the Earl of 
Hertford, and his other enemies, escaped execution only through the timely death 
of Henry himself, spent the reign of Edward VI in the Tower, and was finally re- 
stored to a few years of freedom and service under Mary. 

If the public life of the Third Duke of Norfolk was thus full of heat and 
vicissitude, his private life was even more stormy. His second wife, Elizabeth 
Stafford, one of the most accomplished women of the time, possessed a jealous 
and vindictive temper, and the conduct of the Duke gave her abundant oppor- 
tunity to exercise it. Consequently, after many years of domestic discord, a sep- 
aration took place in 1533, and the Duke henceforth lived unblushingly with his 
mistress, Elizabeth Holland, "a. churl's daughter," as the proud Duchess testified, 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 9 

"who was but a washer in my nursery eight years." So deep seated was the re- 
sentment of the Duchess that, fourteen years after the separation, she welcomed 
the opportunity to testify against her husband when he was on trial for his life. 

We can better understand this temper of the Duchess of Norfolk when we re- 
flect that she was the daughter of Lady Elinor Percy and thus had the hot blood 
of the free spirited Northumberlands in her veins. Moreover, if her husband 
could boast the royal blood of Edward the Confessor and of the ancient houses 
of France and Castile, was not her father descended from Edward III, a later 
sovereign, and was not her paternal grandmother sister to the queen of Edward 
IV ! Small wonder that in his early twenties, the child of this marriage was prop- 
erly described as "the most foolish proud boy that is in England." 

Such was the ancestry and such the heritage of Henry Howard. The blood 
of kings ran in his veins and the pride of kings was in his heart. 

It is not known where Surrey was born, but as he was known in his youth 
as "Henry Howard of Kenninghall," Kenninghall, which was one of the manors 
of his grandfather, may well have been his birthplace. His early boyhood was 
probably spent at one and another of the ancestral estates, for the account book 
of the Duchess for 1523 shows that part of that year was spent at his father's 
house at Stoke Hall, Suffolk, and part, at his grandfather's home at Hunsdon, 
Hertfordshire. The child saw virtually nothing of his father during his tender 
years; from 1520-1525 the Duke was almost continually engaged in military oper- 
ations either in Ireland or against the Scotch or French, and for several years 
thereafter was absorbed in state affairs, furthering the divorce of the King, and 
leading the fight against Wolsey, into whose position he hoped to step. The train- 
ing of the child therefore devolved upon the mother. The responsibilities of life 
must have weighed rather heavily upon the Duchess, for, married at the age of 
fifteen, she was scarcely turned nineteen when this first child was born, and but 
two years older w^hen she gave birth to a second child, the daughter Mary. Any 
tenderness between husband and wife had already disappeared, if we may 
trust the testimony of the Duchess that Norfolk treated her with cruelty at the 
lime of the daughter's birth. Small chance for affection, indeed, between this slip 
of a girl and a husband twenty-five years her senior, a brutal soldier and a self- 
absorbed politician, lusting for power ! Scant room for kindness in the bright, 
cold eyes, the sharp nose, and the thin, cruel lips, if Holbein has told his custom- 
ary truth ! And if any sparks of affection had survived, they must have become 
quite cold, when in 1524 the Duchess saw the father of her husband pass sen- 
tence upon her own father for treason and while with one hand he wiped away 
the tears that he professed to shed, with the other accepted the deeds to a large 
part of the confiscated estates. 

But despite her domestic misery, the Duchess remained a w^oman with in- 
tellectual ideals, and her children should receive the best training that was to be 
had. She apparently attracted gifted men, for aside from the tutors, who wxre 
men of literary attainments, Skelton— with all his grotesqueness the leadmg poet 
of the day— wrote his "A goodely Garlande or Chapelet of Laurell' while her 



10 The Poems of Surrey 

guest. It would seem to have been her ambition to play the part of those accom- 
plished Italian women, such as the Duchesses of Urbino, Ferrara and Milan who 
made their courts the centers for letters and refined intercourse. The seriousness 
with which the education of Surrey was undertaken may be judged from the dis- 
cussion which took place relative to his sister Mary, when it was finally decided 
that because of her "tender years"— she was then two — she should not be put to 
her languages for the present. 

The tutor was John Clerk, an Oxford man, an author of standing, who pos- 
sessed a catholic taste which embraced the modern as well as the classical liter- 
atures. We do not know exactly what authors were read, but the poet's subse- 
quent familiarity with Virgil, Horace and ^Martial, on the one hand, and Petrar- 
ca, Serafino and Sannazzaro, on the other, shows the general trend of his educa- 
tion. In all probability Clerk grounded his pupil before his twelfth year in Latin, 
French, Italian and Spanish, for, in dedicating his "Treatise of Nobility" to Nor- 
folk, Clerk commends translations from Latin, Italian and Spanish made by Sur- 
rey in his youth, and the treatise "Opnsculiim plane divinwn de morUiorum re- 
surrectione et extremo judicio," dedicated to Surrey himself, is in four lan- 
guages — Latin, English, French and Italian. Clerk was not only an enthusiast 
for letters, but a zealous Catholic, as his later imprisonment under Edward shows, 
and he doubtless sought to awaken the lad's religious sense, and to establish his 
Catholic preferences. Such encouragement was perhaps hardly necessary, for 
Surrey as a matter of course shared in that opposition to the protestant wing of 
the Church which was consistently maintained by the older families. Protestant- 
ism was necessarily associated in their minds with the pushing middle class whom 
the Tudors were constantly encouraging at the expense of a long-established no- 
bility. However little any early religious training may have shown in the con- 
duct of the lad, it was grandly vindicated in the closing days of his life when, for 
solace in the dark hours, he made translations from the Psalms that breathe the 
whole spirit of Christian and Catholic faith. 

Perhaps the education of the boy, for all his enthusiasm, was not without 
its occasional shadows, since he lived in an age when the rod was still the potent 
adjunct of the master, and there may be a boyhood reminiscence in the lines : 

I saw the lytle boy, in thought how oft that he 

Did wish of God, to scape the rod, a tall young man to be. 

Toward the close of the year 1529 when the youthful vSurrey was about to 
enter his teens, events transpired that suddenly withdrew him from the shelter of 
a retired home, and presented him to the public as a young man of consequence. 
That these events greatly stimulated a boy, ambitious and proud, conscious of his 
father's position in the realm and of the blood and exploits of his ancestors, goes 
without saying. One of these events was the royal proposal, virtually a command, 
that Surrey become the companion of the King's illegitimate son, Henry, the 
Duke of Richmond, a lad sixteen months younger than Surrey, for whom the 
sovereign felt the greatest affection; the other event was the proposal, urged by 
Anne Boleyn, that Henry should affiance his daughter, Princess Mary, to the 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 11 

young Howard. The ambitious Duke was elated enough at the request that his 
son be companion to Richmond. This elation is reflected in a letter which Eus- 
tache Chapuis, the Imperial Ambassador, wrote to the Emperor under the date 
of December 9, wherein he tells of a dinner that he had with the Duke : "After 
this he took me by the hand to conduct me to the supper table, and during the re- 
past shewed me a letter from his son in very good Latin, which he desired me to 
read and give my opinion upon, adding that he was much pleased with the 
youth's proficiency and advancement in letters, as it was a very good commence- 
ment for a project which he had, and would declare to me later in the evening. 
And so he did, for about midnight, on my leaving the house where the French 
ambassador and Papal Nuncio still remained, he also left, and though there was 
a much shorter road to his hotel, insisted on passing by my lodgings and accom- 
panying me thither. In the course of conversation he said to me : 'I told you 
that I was on many accounts delighted to see my son making so much progress in 
his studies, and following the path of virtue, and since it is but proper that 
friends should communicate to each other their most secret affairs and thoughts, 
I do not hesitate to tell you my ideas on this subject. The King has entrusted to 
me the education of his bastard son, the duke of Richmond, of whom my own son 
may become in time preceptor and tutor (incitateur), that he may attain both 
knowledge and virtue, so that a friendship thus cemented promises fair to be 
very strong! and firm, and will be further consolidated by alliance ; for the King 
wishes the Duke to marry one of my daughters.' ''- 

Accordingly, Surrey was made the companion of the royal bastard and the 
lads were together almost constantly for several years. 

In all ages there is no human relationship more noble than the friendships 
of generous-hearted young men, and the sixteenth century was a period when 
friendships between men were developed with a peculiar lack of restraint and with 
an ardency that surprises us today. We get some idea of these emotional friend- 
ships in the sonnets of Shakespeare, in the correspondence of Sidney and Lan- 
guet, in the devotion of Edward II to Gaveston in Marlowe's drama, and in the 
various episodes of the Legend of Friendship in the Faerie Queene. The beauti- 
ful friendship that sprang up between the two lads was of such a character, and 
these were doubtless the happiest years of Surrey's life. In this morning expanse 
of blue there was nothing to suggest the ugly storms soon to gather. 

Two years and nine months were spent at Windsor, a period which the poet, 
then a prisoner in this very Windsor, later recalled in the pathetic poem be- 
ginning : 

So crewell prison ! How could betyde, alas ! 
As prowde Wyndsour, where I, in lust and ioye. 
With a kinges son my childishe yeres did passe, 
a poem which is at once a passionate threnody for the dear friend of his youth, 
whom death had snatched away, and a lament for his own lost boyhood. It was a 
period of affectionate confidences, of generous emulation in those sports and 
knightly exercises which became young noblemen and in which these lads were 



12 . The Poems of Surrey 

soon to win golden opinions, and of the first stirrings of romantic passion. To be 
sure, the verses which describe these tender sentiments seem adapted rath- 
er to the experiences of young men than of boys of fourteen and fifteen and 
doubtless are conformed to the traditions of romantic verse, yet I think we need 
not take even these lines to be purely fanciful, for, quite aside from the stimulat- 
ing presence of the young women of the court, Surrey at least had prepared him- 
self for like emotions through dwelling upon the tender laments of Petrarca and 
his school. 

There is nothing that more enlarges the horizon of youth than foreign travel. 
A different landscape, new styles of architecture, fresh manners and customs, the 
novelty of foreign attire, the look of foreign faces, and a strange tongue ever in 
one's ear stimulate the imagination and quicken the mental pulse. Especially is 
this true if one visit a country where the arts of life have reached a higher plane 
of refinement than at home. Consequently Henry was anxious that his son 
should stir abroad, and when in the autumn of 1532 he found it desirable to visit 
French soil for a seven days' interview with Francis I, he took Richmond and the 
young Howard with him. In the course of the interview Henry proposed what 
had doubtless been his intention in bringing tne lads with him, that they 
should remain in France as the guest of the King, in order that their manners 
might be conformed to the polite models of the French court and their general 
education advanced. Consequently, as soon as the interview was over, the lads 
bade goodbye to the English retinue and attended Francis on his journey to Cnau- 
tilly ; not, however, before Surrey had enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing his father 
decorated by Francis with the collar of the order of Saint Michael. The news 
that these young English noblemen attended the royal party quickly spread and 
they were accorded true French courtesy throughout the journey: "My Eorde of 
Richmonde and my lorde of Surre}^ in all their journey toward the French courte 
have been very well welcomed and in all places have had presents of wines with 
other genteel ofi-res ' wrote Richard Tate, an attendaiit, to Cromwell.^ Arrived at 
Chantilly, Francis embraced the Duke of Richmond and remarking that he now 
had four sons, presented the English lads to the three princes, v.'ith directions 
that they should be lodged together.* In age the five boys were well suited to 
companionship. Francis, the dauphin, in his fifteenth year, was twelve months 
younger than Surrey ; Henry, Duke of Orleans, was in his fourteenth year, three 
months older than Richmond; and Charles, Duke of Angouleme, was ten. 
During the greater part of the visit, which lasted nearly a year, the boys were 
thrown almost constantly together, and the sincerity of the friendships and the 
impression which Surrey made upon these carefully nurtured French boys is re- 
flected in a letter which the English Ambassador, Sir John Wallop, Vvrote to 
Henry VIH in 1540, several years after the visit and four years after the death of 
Richmond: "He (Henry, now Dauphin by virtue of the death of Francis) began 
to speke of my lorde of Richemond lamenting his death greatly, and so did M. d' 
Orleans, (Charles) likewise; they both then asking for my Torde of Surrey giv- 
ing great praise unto hym as well for his wisdom and soberness as also good learn- 
ing."* Surrey seemed to have inspired Francis himself with equal respect and 



The; Dramatic Career oe Surrey 13 

confidence, for when in 1546 Francis learned that Surrey had been accused of 
treason, he was much surprised and questioned the justice of the accusation. 

In the course of their sojourn Richmond and Surrey had an opportunity to 
visit practically all parts of France. After a prolonged stay at beautiful Fontaine- 
bleau they attended Francis in the spring to Lyons, where he expected to hold 
an interview with Clement VII. The journey was a leisurely one as the King- 
desired to inspect on the way as many localities as possible. As the Pope asked 
a delay in the interview, Francis decided to visit the southern provinces of 
France, and this gave Surrey an opportunity to see the old and picturesque civ- 
ilization that lay along the Mediterranean— Toulouse, Beziers, Montpelier. What 
must have been the sentiments of this imaginative youth as he journeyed through 
this land of "sun-burnt mirth," eloquent with the mythical memories of a great 
school of lyric poets, or as he first gazed upon the blue waters of the Mediter- 
ranean, waters which had borne Odysseus and Jason and Aeneas, and whose 
v/aves had washed immemorially the magic shores of Italy and Greece and Car- 
thage ! 

Yet it is not a little strange that only one reference to this trip occurs in all 
of Surrey's poetry and that recalls — probably on the occasion of his return to 
France for military duty in 1544— the intense heat that he had experienced on 
this midsummer trip to the south." In the meantime the Duke of Norfolk had 
come again to France, this time to act as the representative of Henry at the pro- 
posed conference with the Pope. His persistent efforts to alienate Francis from 
the Holy See were plainly wearisome to the monarch and Francis was no doubt 
relieved when Norfolk announced, in the middle of August, that Henry had re- 
called him. But of far gi'eater moment to the two friends was the royal command 
that Richmond should return forthwith to England, in order that he might wed 
Mary Howard, a sister of Surrey, now a maiden of fourteen, whose brilliancy 
and charms were already w^inning admiration. This news undoubtedly gave the 
liveliest satisfaction to both Richmond and vSurrey, and they thus found their 
friendship cemented by still another bond. In the early days of October they set 
foot again on English soil. 

We have stated above that in the year 1529 Surrey was being suggested 
as a suitable husband for the Princess Mary. This proposal originated v/ith 
Anne Boleyn, who in the latter part of that year urged the union upon the King. 
To the Duke of Norfolk, who always regarded marriage in a commercial light, 
this proposal was undoubtedly most pleasing, and Surrey himself was old 
enough to appreciate its significance. Anne's purpose in urging this marriage 
was of course to strengthen her own claim upon the King through this union ol 
the two houses. The King would seem to have given partial consent to the pro- 
ject. In October of the following year, however, Anne completely changed her 
attitude and so effectually opposed the marriage that she compelled the disappoin- 
ted and reluctant Norfolk to afiiance his son to Lady Francis Vere, daughter ot 
the Earl of Oxford. It is uncertain just what motive actuated Anne in this 
change; perhaps she was afraid that she would herself be affianced to Surrey, for 



14 The Poems or Surrey 

in June 1530 her father was reported to be urging such a match, but more prob- 
ably she had come to see what the Imperial Ambassador was quick to see,^ that if 
Mary and Surrey were married, Norfolk would lose all interest in furthering 
Anne's cause with the King and would trust to the marriage of the children for 
his influence. The contract for Surrey's marriage to Lady Francis was accord- 
ingly signed in February 1532 and the marriage followed shortly, though, because 
of their youth, Surrey and his wife did not live together until 1535. Youthful as 
he was, Surrey was not too young to appreciate the golden opportunity which 
fortune had thus snatched away from him. With the buoyancy of youth, how- 
ever, he probably put aside his disappointment, especially as fortune seemed to 
be smiling upon him in so many other ways. 

We hear little of Surrey in the two years that followed his return from 
France. Presumably he was at court with Richmond. This arrangement would 
have been to Richmond's liking, and no other life would have satisfied a young 
man with intellectual tastes so cultivated and manners so refined. Even then the 
court, at the best somewhat provincial, must have seemed cramped to a youth of 
cosmopolitan interests. This may well have been the period when Surrey pro- 
duced much of his lighter verse, for his formal education was now complete, he 
was overflowing with exuberant spirits, and he had not yet assumed the burden 
of military and diplomatic services. His year at the French court had shown him 
the honor which attends the poet or man of letters in a cultivated society, and he 
set about winning for himself the immortal cr<)wn of laurel ; he would be the 
first poet of modern England, the Petrarca of Albion. Accordingly he experi- 
mented with the sonnet and with the epigram ; with the terza rima, the rhyme 
royal, the ottava rima and the alternate sixes and sevens ; now translating, now 
adapting, and now composing independently. This early polite verse, though 
superficial in emotion and sometimes awkward and heavy, more often is spirited 
and graceful, with occasional bits of nature description that have a breath and 
reality worthy of the best English tradition, and justifies Sidney's observation 
that many of the lyrics "taste of a noble birth and are worthy of a noble mind." 

Such is the first act in the drama of Surrey's life. It shows a youth whose 
lines had indeed fallen in pleasant places and who had every reason to feel that 
fortune had chosen him for her minion. With the exception of the domestic 
troubles of his parents and such disappointment as he may have felt in the frus- 
tration of the proposed marriage with Mary, his life had been quite free from 
cloud. A romantic comedy has its reverses, but they merely serve as shading, 
and Surrey's career gave promise of being such a comedy, certainly not a 
tragedy. 

But the year 1536, which ushers in Act II, brought the realities of life home 
with telling force. On March 10 Surrey's first child was born^ and this young 
husband of nineteen found himself face to face with the responsibilities of par- 
enthood. On May 15 occurred the trial of Anne Boleyn, and Surrey was forced 
to act the part of Earl Marshal in place of his father who, as Lord Treasurer, 
presided. Surrey knew the passionate nature of his cousin, but he knew as well 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 15 

the vile motives that prompted the King, and he felt the utmost contempt for 
the sovereign's conduct. Close upon the heels of the execution followed 
Henry's disquieting marriage to Jane Seymour, a representative of the rival 
house which was pitted against the Howards in a bitter struggle to hold first 
place in influence with the King. The following month another relative fell 
a victim to the King's tyranny, when an uncle, Thomas Howard, was com- 
mitted to the tower for having secretly affianced Margaret Douglas, one of the 
intimate friends of the Duchess of Richmond and probably of the poet him- 
self. The Duchess had actually interested herself in the affair to the extent 
of shielding the clandestine meetings, and Surrey may well have been a party to 
them. But the most crushing blow fell in July, when, on the twenty-second, the 
Duke of Richmond died, and a companionship peculiarily of the heart was broken. 
The poet was utterly disconsolate, and such was the depth of his feeling that for 
two years he was reported ill from the effects of his grief. 

In the autumn he was required to assist his father in repressing the re- 
bellion in the north, known as the Pilgrimage of Grace. This was at the best 
a sorry business, for since three of the demands of the rebels were for reforms 
that the Howards above all things desired — the re-establishment of the nobility 
in their time-honored position of influence and authority, the suppression of 
upstart statesmen, and the return to the old religion — , at heart the family must 
have been in sympathy with the rebellion. It was thoroughly characteristic of 
the policy of Henry thus to compromise his subjects, and such a high-spirited 
young man as Surrey found his position peculiarly galling. If Surrey was not 
incautious enough actually to express his sympathies, they were surmised, and 
in this connection happened an affair which threatened to be serious. It seems 
that Thomas, Lord Darcy, who had been prominently identified with the Pil- 
grimage of Grace, after the pardon granted by the King had taken up arms 
afresh, and had been condemned to die therefor. In his final testimony he al- 
leged that, though Surrey served among the royal troops, his heart was with 
the rebels. This accusation was reported to Surrey, probably by some mem- 
ber of the Seymour faction, in the park at Hampton Court ; whereupon Surrey 
who, with all of his open and generous qualities, possessed an uncontrollable tem- 
per, struck his accuser. It was a good English way of vindicating ones self, 
but, unfortunately, the penalty for such an offense on the royal premises was 
the loss of the right hand. In this extreme situation, the Duke of Norfolk, who 
was necessarily detained in Yorkshire, swallowed his pride and implored the 
good offices of Cromwell. Cromwell, who saw the political advantage in com- 
pliance, used his influence with the Privy Council, and the offender was merely 
confined at Windsor. The confinement did not begin before July twelfth, as on 
that date Surrey was reported ill at Kenninghall, and it lasted not more than 
four months. Surrey probably employed his time in writing poetry, for three 
of his poems, "29," "30" and "31", were clearly written then. The first is a 
graceful compliment to Elizabeth Fitzgerald, a little maiden whom he had re- 
cently met and who had quite caught his fancy; the second is a regret for the 



16 The Poems of Surrey 

"rakehel life" that he is missing; and the third is the noble lament for the golden 
days of youth and friendship to which we have alluded above." 

In November the Queen, Jane Seymour, died, and the Howards saw the 
prestige of the rival family diminished accordingly. Freshly relieved from his 
confinement and aware of the royal disapproval, Surrey attended the funeral 
procession from Hampton to Windsor as a principal mourner. Thereafter he 
retired to Kenninghall and spent the remainder of that year and the following 
in privacy. Henry had no mind to call him back to court. The poet turned 
again to domestic interests and to his verse, giving generously of his time to 
his page, Thomas Churchyard, a lad of no birth of marked talent, in whom 
he saw a poet of promise. But the Duke of Norfolk was not a man to wait 
patiently for the return of favor. With his son virtually ostracized, and his 
daughter, in the happy phrase of Bapst, a "declassee" by virtue of her premature 
widowhood — she was called "the maiden, wife and widow all in one," since 
her marriage to Richmond was never actually consummated — , he bestirred him- 
self to think of some means of bettering the family situation. When at a loss 
for other means of reinstating his fortune, the Duke always turned to a mar- 
riage, and in this case he bethought himself of a match between the Duchess of 
Richmond and Sir Thomas Seymour, the brother of Hertford. It went a bit 
against the grain to make an alliance with a newly-rich family, but Norfolk 
characteristically explained this away by saying that "no good came by the con- 
junction of high bloods together." The advantages were manifest : his daughter, 
as aunt to the Heir Apparent, would at once assume a leading position at court ; 
his son would be brought from retirement; and a long-standing family hos- 
tility would be at an end. Sir Thomas was pleased with overtures from so 
ancient a house, the King was acquiescent, and the Duchess was seemingly hold- 
ing the proposal in the balance, when she abruptly left the court and returned 
to Kenninghall. History has never properly cleared up the affair, but the mar- 
riage did not take place. Bapst is probably right in his conjecture that Surrey, 
who had conceived an intense antipathy for these upstart nobility, violently op- 
posed the marriage and dissuaded his sister from it. Certain it is that he up- 
braided her in the bitterest terms when the proposal was again made a few 
years later. So the last scene of Act Two in the drama of Surrey's life must 
be placed at Kenninghall, a scene of intense emotion between brother and sister. 
The curtain falls upon the act with Surrey removed from the royal favor and 
the Seymiours more embittered than ever by this last affront. 

The third act is one of great dramatic power, in which, through succes- 
sive scenes, one beholds the fortunes of the Howards raised to the highest pitch, 
only to see them undei"go a violent reversal in scenes of spectacular brilliancy. 

In December 1538, Henry suddenly found himself confronted with a hos- 
tile league which embraced the Empire, France and Scotland. This exigency 
called for prompt action and the preparations for defense were hurriedly ap- 
portioned among the nobility. Surrey was accordingly brought from his re- 
tirement to organize the defence in Norfolk. He eagerly seized the opportunity 
to retrieve himself and evidentlv he was successful to some extent in mollifving 



The; Dramatic CareeIr of Surrey 17 

the ill will of the King, for in June he was called to London to take part in the 
funeral ceremonies in honor of Isabella, the wife of the Emperor. When the 
war cloud blew over, interest was transferred to the marriage of Henry to 
Anne of Cleves, and though this marriage project which Cromwell had so skill- 
fully nursed must have been repugnant to a family of strong anti-protestant 
sympathies, Surrey accepted it with grace, seemingly bent on winning back the 
complete good will of the sovereign. He was so far successful that he was 
chosen as one of the party to await with the King the arrival of Anne at Gren- 
wich,^° but it is not known whether or no he was one of the favored few who 
accompanied the impatient King on that memorable New Year's day to Roches- 
ter, where he stole his first look at the charms of the German beauty. Later, 
when a tournament at Westminster was declared for May day in honor of the 
nuptials and challenges were even sent abroad to France, the Netherlands, Spain, 
and Scotland, Surrey was quick to respond, impelled perhaps by a two fold 
motive, his eagerness to win glory and his desire to please the King. Either 
because of rank or of established prowess, Surrey was the first to enter the lists, 
and in the engagement with swords rode against Sir John Dudley with such 
fury that at the first course they both lost their gauntlets." In the meantime 
the Duke of Norfolk, as the leader of the reactionary party, had been pushing 
his policies. He had succeeded in getting the bill of the famous six articles, 
which meant a return to more Catholic ecclesiastical policy, through the Parlia- 
ment of 1539, and on the strength of this legislation had sought, in February 
1540, to wean Francis I from the Emperor. To this proposal, however, the 
marriage of Henry to a German protestant was an insuperable obstacle, and 
the effort failed. But vvdien in the late spring the King's real attitude towards 
his marriage became known, the Duke saw that the opportunity for which he 
had been waiting so long had at last come. Who was it that had caused sus- 
picion and unrest within the realm? Cromwell. Who was it that had kept 
England constantly on the verge of war with the great powers abroad? Crom- 
well. Who was it that had treasonably duped his dear sovereign into this clown- 
ish marriage? Cromwell. The King and the nobility were one: Cromwell's 
hour had struck. What student of English history does not recall that dramatic 
scene in the Council Chamber at W^estminster on the tenth of June when, as the 
Lieutenant of the Tower entered with the order of arrest, the Duke, laying his 
eager fingers upon Cromwell, cried, "My Lord of Essex, I arrest you on the 
charge of high treason", and then tore from his neck the decoration of St. 
George, while the Earl of Southampton snatched from him the garter! The 
young Earl of Surrey was jubilant: "Now is that fond churl dead," said he, 
"so ambitious of other's blood ! now is he stricken with his own stafif."^- On the 
twelfth of July Parliament annulled the hateful marriage; on July 28, Cromwell 
v.-as beheaded. The star of the Howards was in its ascendency ; it must be 
fixed full and fair in its heavens. The Duke knew exactly how that end v/as 
to be achieved, and on the eighth of August the King married Catherine Howard. 
At last here was a Queen to the King's liking, a Queen young, strong and 
beautiful, who gave ever}- promise of satisfying the monarch and the aspirations 



18 The Poems of Surrey 

of the realm. Surely the Howards had come to their own ! Surrey, confident 
and happy, returned with fresh enthusiasm to the pursuit of his ambitions as a 
humanist. Prompted by the advent of an Italian translation in blank verse of 
several books of the ^tieid by men of note, he turned the second and fourth 
books of the epic into English, himself employing the new medium of blank 
verse. His intention evidently was to outdo the Italians themselves, and he 
clearly did surpass them in vigor and conciseness. At the same time he was 
busied with the erecting of a pretentious mansion, Mount Surrey, on St. 
Leonard's Hill, near Norwich, which was to illustrate to his countrymen the 
nobility and chasteness of the Greek architecture. His home was to be a centre 
from which would radiate the classical spirit. The King leaned heavily upon 
the Duke these days, and the Earl of Surrey was showered with favors. In 
May 1541, on nomination of the King, Surrey was made a Knight of the 
Garter,^^ a unique distinction for a young man of three and twenty, not of the 
royal family. About the same time, he was made seneschal of the royal domains 
in the county of Norfolk, and in September was appointed steward of Cam- 
bridge University, a position previously held by Cromwell.^* These were but 
an earnest of the favors to come, when suddenly on November 13 the disclosure 
of the Queen's guilt broke upon the court ! Cranmer and the protestant leaders 
could hardly conceal under the cloak of sympathy and concern for the person 
of the King, the real elation that they felt ; the Howards bowed before the 
storm, benumbed with terror. The enemies of the family, who had ill brooked 
its late triumphs, rose on every side, and the accusing finger was pointed at 
one member after another. The arrests included the aged wife of Surrey's 
grandfather, the second Duke of Norfolk; Lord William Howard, her son; the 
Countess of Bridgewater, her daughter; Lady Howard, the wife of Sir WilHam; 
and other members of the household : all of whom were held to be cognizant of 
Catherine's past. On December 22, Lord and Lady Howard were condemned 
to perpetual seclusion and were deprived of their properties ; on February 1 1 , 
a like sentence awaited the aged Duchess and the Countess of Bridgewater, and 
two days later the Queen was executed. At this wretched execution, the young 
Earl was present, heard the inspired confession of his cousin and saw her head 
severed from her body. Was it as a reward for his attitude when the Queen 
was arraigned, Bapst asks, that on December 8, 1541, the King bestowed cer- 
tain manors in Norfolk and Suffolk upon the Earl?^^ Perhaps, but the Earl 
bitterly resented the harsh, and probably unjust treatment of the aged Duchess 
and her children, and he voiced this resentfulness in a poem written in the fall.^*^ 
To the intense feeling that these events aroused may well be attributed one of 
the most daring poems that a reckless young man ever composed, the sonnet in 
which by implication he compares the King to Sardanapalus^^ who "murdered 
hymself to shew some manfull dede," a poem that bums with suppressed rage 
from the first word to the last. 

But that destiny which laughs at the fruitless ambitions of man and woos 
that it may taunt, was not yet satisfied. It would still pursue its victim with 
its mocking laughter. Therefore, on July 13, 1542, the young Earl found him- 



The Dramatic Career of ISurrey 19 

self committed to the "pestilent ayres" of the Fleet. The bitter disappointment 
and chagrin that had attended the reverses of the family fortunes had left 
Surrey little the master of himself; consequently, forgetting to profit by the 
past, he allowed himself once more to give way to his temper and for the second 
time struck a courtier, this time a certain John a Leigh. We do not know 
what was the cause of the disagreement, but Bapst has made a conjecture that 
is at least plausible. When Surrey was on trial in 1547, his cousin, Sir Edmund 
Knyvet, recalled that the Earl had once taken back into his employ a former 
servant, who in the meantime had been in the service of Reginald Cardinal Pole, 
the exiled English prelate and arch-enemy of the King. Now in the year 1541, 
one John Leigh had been summoned before the Council for having twice in- 
terviewed the Cardinal while on the continent, and in excusing his own conduct, 
Bapst asks, may not this Leigh have compromised Surrey by alluding to the 
episode of the servant.^® In a letter to the Council, Surrey frankly attributes 
his conduct to "the fury of reckless youth", and yet the substance of the quarrel 
must have involved the whole question of his conduct and loyalty, for he requests 
that "durynge my affliction, in which tyme malyce is most redye to sclaunder the 
innocent, ther may be made a whole examynation of my life." To Surrey's 
added request that he be transferred to a more healthy place of confinement, 
the Council conceded, and on July 29, he was transferred to Windsor. There 
he met the King, and after subscribing to a heavy fine in case of further affront 
to John Leigh, was released.^° 

In the early fall occurred another episode that caused the poet intense 
mortification and called forth a fresh burst of temper. We know of this 
episode from the poem, "Eache beeste can chuse his feere," in which under the 
guise of an allegory, Surrey represents himself, the lion, scornfully rebuffed at 
some function by a lady, the wolf, to whom he humbly offered a courtesy. 
The function was given by Surrey himself, for he assigns that circumstance 
as a reason why he could not show his resentment at the time, and it was seem- 
ingly given in honor of the lady, for after she had scornfully refused his ap- 
proaches she is made to say: 

"Lyon yf thow hadest knowen my mynde before, 

"Thow hadst not spentt thie travaile thus, and all thie payne forlorne." 

The Earl, proud with the pride of youth and noble blood, was deeply wounded 

by this slight, and the poem throbs with angry scorn. He calls to mind the 

fierce prowess and stern heroism of his family: of his grandfather, the hero 

of Flodden Feld, , . , 

a lyon of the race, 

That with his pawes a crowned kinge devoured in the place; 

of his uncle, the lover of Margaret Douglas, who willingly sought his death, 
"for loss of his true love;" of the dowager Duchess of Norfolk and her children, 
who were even then forced to linger in pain worse than death. With this hardi- 
hood, he contrasts the wolf-like cowardice of the lady's family, treacherous to 
their friends. Finally he dedicates himself to an ecstacy of revenge: 



20 The Poems of Surrey 

"In the revendge wherof, I vowe and sweare therto, 
A thowsand spoyles I shall commytt I never thought to do; 
And yf to light on you my happ so good shall be, 
I shall be glad to feede on that that wold have fed on me." 
Who was this "fayre beast" of "fresh hew" in whose honor Surrey had thus 
vainly sought "to shew a friendlie cheare?" The traditional association of 
the names of Henry Howard and Anne Stanhope, the wife of Edward Seymour, 
Earl of Hertford,-^ and the fact that tlie escutcheon of the Stanhopes was sup- 
ported by two wolves, leaves little doubt that she it is to whom the poem is ad- 
dressed. In Tottel's Miscellany, the poem is entitled, "A Song Written by the 
Earle of Surrey to a Ladie that refused to Daunce with him," and this sixteenth 
century title probably gives the correct circumstance. 

Surrey may have been temporarily fascinated by this court beauty, whom he 
plainly charges with having lured him on, or he may have given the ball for 
the sake of policy and perhaps at the instigation of the Duke, in an effort to 
help mend the broken fortunes of the family. In any case, the outcome was dis- 
astrous, and Vv'idened still further the breach between the Howards and the 
Seymours. No power on earth could now reconcile these two houses, and 
therein was involved the ultimate catastrophe in the tragedy of Surrey's life. 
In the late fall, Surrey accompanied his father, who had been placed in 
command of military operations against Scotland, to the north. The real fight- 
ing took place at Solway Moss. Surrey, who remained with the Duke, merely 
assisted in a brief excursion of plunder and burning conducted in the barbaric 
manner that had made terrible the name of Howard. This was Surrey's first 
real military service, but there was nothing to gratify the young man's lust for 
glory. Indeed, since in one of his poems, in which he apparently alludes to 
this northern expedition, he says that it was "spite that drave me into Boreas 
raigne",-^ v/e m.ay be warranted in concluding that he was reluctantly pressed 
into this campaign by the King, who felt that it was high time for the energy 
of this troublesome young man to be diverted into some safer channel. 

This act, so dramatic in its rise and fall, so portentous for the future, closes 
with elegiac strains. Wyatt had died while Surrey was in the north, and on 
his return he v/rote poems in honor of the dead poet. The events of the past 
year had given the younger poet sympathy for a man who, though having political 
and religious sympathies opposite to his own, had lived a heroic life, superior to 
the enmity and jealousies of little men. In such lines as the following, it is 
evident that Surrey is interpreting Wyatt's experience in the light of his own, 
and that with prophetic imagination he foresees his own death and fame : 
Some, that watched with the murdres knyfe, 
With egre thurst to drynke thy guyltles lyfe. 
Whose practyse brake by happye end of lyfe, 
Weape envyous teares to here thy fame so good. 
Indeed, the three poems in memory of Wyatt are to all intents autobiographical. 
For the first time the poetry of Surrey reflects the compassion, because of the 
kinship, of suffering. He was learning the great lessons of life, yet so as by 
fire. 



The Dkamatic Career of Surrey 21 

The fourth act opens, by way of rehef, with a serio-comic scene, quite in 
the spirit of the merry escapades of Prince Hal and his comrades. This scene 
shows us the more companionable side of Surrey's character, and Vv'e behold him 
the prince of good fellows leading his merry pais on midnight adventures. It 
is fortunate that the drama admits the scene, for we need this picture ol free- 
hearted and generous companionship to correct the impression that Surrey held 
himself aloof from his fellows with supercilious pride. Among his companions 
in this m.erry revelry were Sir Thomas Wyatt, the son of the poet, Thomas 
Clere, Surrey's companion and squire, John Clere, his brother, and a certain 
William Pickering, of whom nothing more is knovvn than his intimacy with 
the poet. The rendezvous of these merry spirits was in Lawrence Lane, at the 
house of Mistress Arundel, the Dame Quickly of the scene. There was doubt- 
less many a lark here on the long winter nights, but one night, in search of fresh 
amusement, the young men sallied forth, vrent about the streets singing, shot 
"pellets" from their stone bows at the men v/hom they chanced to meet, broke 
the windows of residences and churches, and generally painted the tov/n red. 
Another night they took boat on the Thames to Southwark, and shot at the 
"queans" who congregated there. Naturally there was a great clamor in the 
city, and the offenders were traced to Mistress Arundel's house. She tried 
loyally to shield her guests, who were probably a good source of income, but 
murder v.ill out. The names of the offenders were taken, and the matter 
brought to the Privy Council. Not only were the young revellers accused of 
the above misdemeanors, but also of eating meat in Lent, which was a violation 
of royal decree. Brought before the Council, Surrey alleged a license for the 
eating of meat, but with that franl: honesty v/hich was one of his most engaging 
traits of character, confessed the impropriety of his midnight escapades. 
As the old record runs : "And touching the stonebowes, he coulde nott denye 
butt he hadde very evyll done therein ; submitting himself therefore to such 
ponissement as sholde to them be though good. Whereupon he was com- 
mitted to the Fleet."-- His conduct was in pleasing contrast to that of Wyatt 
and Pickering, who tried to deny their guilt and were committed to the Tower. 
Surrey might have escaped merely with a reprimand, but the Earl of Hertford, 
with a show of legal gravity that was designed to hide his real motives, re- 
marked that "A secret and unobserved contempt of the law is a close under- 
mining of authority, which must be either itself in indulging nothing, or be 
nothing in indulging all."-^ 

In connection with the trial there came out testimony which, though not 
seriously regarded at the time, was fraught with consequence. It may have 
reflected the kind of talk that passed between Surrey and his friends when 
flushed with wine; it may have been but bourgeois gossip elated at the dis- 
tinction of having so eminent a person as the Earl freciuenting Lawrence Lane. 
This testimony, as given in the contemporary records, is full of fine local color. 
Under date of Jan. 24, 1543 occurs the following entry: "Examination of Ric. 
Bourne, merchant tailor ... On 19 Jan. was at the house of Andrew Castell, 



22 The Poems of Surrey 

butcher, in St. Nicholas Shahnelles in London when a maid servant of ... . 
Arundell in St. Lawrence Lane came to complain that Castell had deceived her 
with a knuckle of veal and desired in future to have the best, for 'peers of the 
realm should thereof eat and besides that a prince.' Asked what prince? 
She answered 'The Earl of Surrey.' Said 'he was no prince, but a man of 
honor, and of more honor like to be.' To which she said 'Yes, and oughts other 
than good should become of the King he is like to be King.' Answered 'It is not 
so,' and she said 'It is said so.'"-* And under date of April 2: "Mylicent 
Arundel confesses that once when my lord of Surrey was displeased about buy- 
ing of cloth she told her maids in the kitchen how he fumed, and added 'I marvel 
they will thus mock a prince.' Why,' quoth Alys, her maid, 'is he a prince?' 
'Yea Mary! is he,' quote this deponent, 'and if aught should come at the King 
but good his father should stand for King'. Upon further examination she can- 
not recollect speaking the last words 'and if aught, etc' 

"Joan Whetnall confesses that talking with her fellows touching my lord 
of Surrey's bed she said the arms were very like the King's, and she thought 
that 'if aught came at the King and my lord Prince, he would be King after his 
father.' "-" 

Again confined to the Fleet, Surrey turned once more to poetry for his 
diversion and on this occasion composed a waggish satire on London in which 
he pretends that inasmuch as the besotted inhabitants of this "false Babylon" 
were so lost in trespasses and sins that nothing short of violence could arouse 
them, he took this means to bring them to a sense of their spiritual condition. 
In the language of Ezekiel and of Revelation, he prophesies the wrath that will 
fall on the city, and concludes with the praise which will ascend to heaven from 
the lips of the righteous for this vindication of justice.^^ 

But the time had come when this restless young man was to have a more 
legitimate outlet for his energy. However irritated Henry might be from time 
to time by the conduct of the Howards, he was too alive to his own interests 
and the interests of the nation to ignore the fact that the Howards had a genius 
for military affairs beyond that of any other family in the realm, and he con- 
fidently expected the young Earl of Surrey, brave, intrepid, versatile, to be as 
doughty a fighter and as skillful a general as his father and grandfather had 
been. It was therefore to be desired that he be given every opportunity for 
practical military training, especially as he had now reached the age of twenty- 
six and had seen no warfare of any account. Accordingly, as a body of Eng- 
lish troops were engaged in the summer and fall of 1543 in assisting the Emperor 
in besieging Landrecy, then in the hands of the French, Surrey was sent thither, 
in October, with letters from Henry to Charles V, and to the English com- 
mander. Sir John Wallop, requesting them to give the young nobleman every 
opportunity for observing military operations. This request was scrupulously 
observed, and Surrey himself showed the greatest enthusiasm to learn and to 
excel. Immediately upon his arrival he made an exhaustive survey of the plan 
of the siege and then, desirous cf getting into action as soon as possible, hastened 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 23 

to join a detachment of the Imperial troops which had been sent to make a 
surprise attack upon Guise. He arrived just in time to take part in the retreat, 
which was necessitated by the arrival of French auxiliaries. We do not know 
just what part he played in the campaign thereafter, but when at the conclusion 
of the hostilities he returned to England, he left with the hearty good wishes 
and admiration of Charles and his generals. Shortly before his departure, he 
was received in special audience by the Emperor, and in the course of the in- 
terview had placed in his hands the following letter to Henry: "Most noble, 
most excellent and most puissant Prince, our very dear and much beloved 
brother and cousin, we commend ourselves to you with all affection. As my 
cousin, the count of Sorey (Earl of Surrey), is returning home. We shall be 
relieved from the necessity of writing a longer letter, since he himself will be 
able to tell you the occurrences of these parts. We will only add that he (the 
Earl) has afforded Us and Our men in the field good testimony of whose son 
he is, and will not be in fault in imitating the Duke (his father) and his an- 
cestors, with such natural dexterity and gentle heart that there has been no 
necessity of teaching him anything, and that you will not give him orders that 
he does not know how to execute."-' 

The young Earl also presented himself to the Emperor's sister, the queen 
of Hungary, to take formal leave and was treated by her with like consideration. 
Surrey's intellectual grace and refined address never failed to impress the 
French and Spanish. In this respect they were better able to appreciate him 
than were his own countrymen, who lacked in urbanity and the amenities of a 
cultivated society. He possessed what Englishmen of the day did not possess 
and could not understand, the qualities which the southern Europeans embrace 
in the term "the gentle heart." It was perhaps because of these golden opinions 
won abroad, that Henry made Surrey, upon his return, the royal cupbearer. 

In the few months that now intervened before Surrey was again called to 
the field, he busied himself with the completion of Mount Surrey. His tastes 
outran his pocketbook, however, and this venture caused him much financial em- 
barrassment. Surrey was evidently much interested in his home and in his fam- 
ily, but he was able to give little time to the education of his children and he en- 
gaged as their tutor the wandering scholar, Hadrianus Junius, who remained 
for several years in his household and from time to time embarrassed the Earl 
with his fulsome verses. 

In the summer of 1844, Henry resumed military operations against France 
in conjunction with the Emperor, and Surrey now had an opportunity to demon- 
strate how thoroughly he had learned the lessons of the preceding year. The 
plan of campaign was for the main body of Imperial troops to press towards Par- 
is from the east, and the English, from the north. Accordingly, Henry put two 
armies in the field, one under the Duke of Norfolk to attack Montreuil, with the 
aid of a detachment of the Imperial forces, the other to besiege Boulogne under 
his personal direction. Norfolk's army was the first to be placed in the field and 
crossed the Channel early in June. In the expedition, Surrey held the post of 



24 The Poems of Surrey 

marshal of the field, with the duties of choosing the camp and disposing the 
troops variously therein. Upon arriving before Montreuil, the young marshal 
was not at all satisfied with the ground picked out by the Imperial generals for 
the English camp and, much to the elation of his father, showed his independent 
judgment by choosing another site. In the meantime, when the French com- 
mander at Boulogne saw this English force pass by, he anticipated that Mon- 
treuil was the objective, and ignorant that a second army viould soon be launched 
against Boulogne, transferred to Montreuil a large part of his force. Consequent- 
ly, as time passed, Montreuil proved a difficult nut to crack and September found 
the defence still effective. We hear of Surrey's name only once in this interim. It 
seems that the English were to have provisions from the Netherlands, but as the 
commissariat was inadequate, a raid on the surrounding country was effected 
in which Surrey took part, and which returned to camp on September 2 with 
abundant provisions and news of towns pillaged and burned.-* 

On the eleventh of September Surrey visited the King before Boulogne, 
probably sent by his father to report the progress of the siege of Montreuil. He 
arrived just in time to witness the demolition of the fortress by the Englisl' 
mines. 

When Norfolk learned of the fall of Boulogne, he redoubled his efforts to 
take Montreuil. A stubborn attack was made in an effort to carry the fortifica- 
tions, but it was unsuccessful. The engagement, however, showed the intrepidity 
and valor of Surrey, for in his eagerness to inspire his troops and to win distinc- 
tion for himself, he completely outran his support and was surrounded by the 
enemy. In this critical situation he was saved only by the efforts of his squire, 
Thomas Clere, who received a wound which ultimately cost him his life. Surrey 
commemorated this sacrifice in a sonnet written in memory of his faithful atten- 
dant.^^ His affection for this young companion, which found generous expression 
in gifts that he could ill afford to make, and Clere's devotion to him are further 
evidence of the noble quality of Surrey's friendships. 

As the Emperor treacherously concluded an independent peace with France, 
thus compelling England to face the entire French force, the operations against 
Montreuil were abandoned, and Henry had to content himself with the acquisition 
of Boulogne. October found Norfolk and his son again in England. 

Aside from his attendance at a meeting of the Order of the Garter, held at 
St. James on St. George's Day, we hear nothing of Surrey during the following 
winter. With the renewal of hostilities between France and England in the sum- 
mer of 1545, however, his more ambitious military aspirations were suddenly to 
be gratified, and then, alas ! — as suddenly crushed. Francis had decided to take 
the initiative and to take it aggressively. Accordingly, he prepared a fleet of un- 
precedented size, which crossed the channel in July. The objective was the Isle 
of Wight, but after several days of blundering ineffectiveness, the fleet took har- 
bor at Selsic Bill. 

The English admiral. Lord Lisle — the Sir John Dudley with whom Surrey 
had once broken swords — having the wind in his favor, thought that he could pen 
in the French fleet, and sent to the King post-haste for his approval. Thereupon 



The Dramatic Career oe Surrey 25 

the King paid the young vSurrey, who seems to have been acting as an aide, the fine 
compHment of sending him to determine whether or not the proposed plan was 
advisable. Surrey reported favorably and the King gave his consent, but it was 
then too late, and the French fleet escaped. 

Francis now gave up the idea of an English invasion, and concentrated his 
efforts on Boulogne. The English commander at Boulogne, Sir Edward Poyn- 
ings, had for some time been requesting substantial aid, especially as the French 
had been pushing the construction of a fort — Chatillon — on the opposite 
side of the stream, which threatened the English communication by sea. 

Accordingly, Henry decided to put a large army upon the continent under 
the leadership of his brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk. The advance guard of 
5000 men was placed in charge of the Earl of Surrey. We can imagine the satis- 
faction of this ambitious young man as he reviewed these troops — his troops — 
with which he was to establish his military reputation. On the ninth of x\ugust 
he was at Portsmouth and about to embark, v.hen he received a counter order 
from the Council. For the moment he must have suffered much chagrin, think- 
ing that his command was to be taken away from him. The delay, however, 
proved to be due to the movements of the French fleet which threatened the pas- 
sage. On the fifteenth came a second message urging him to cross the channel 
with all haste. This he did. Pleased as Surrey must have been with the ap- 
pointment, he was soon to receive fresh proof of Henry's confidence in his effi- 
ciency, for an unexpected combination of circumstances was working in his favor 
On August 18 Poynings suddenly died, and the Duke of Suffolk quite as sud- 
denly four days later. Confronted with this imtoward situation, Henry was 
quick to act. On August 26 he appointed Lord William Grey, then in charge of 
Guisnes, an English stronghold in France, to Boulogne, and appointed Surrey 
to the vacancy at Guisnes ; at the same time he stopped the further levying of 
troops and decided to follow, for the present, a defensive campaign. But five days 
thereafter the King as suddenly reversed his decision, directed Grey to remain at 
Guisnes, and appointed Surrey not only Governor of Boulogne, but Lieutenant 
General on sea and land of all possessions on the continent. We do not know 
what occasioned this change of plan, but it was certainly a remarkable expres- 
sion of confidence in so young a man. The King must have felt that Surrey 
possessed to a degree the military genius of his family. For Lord Grey it was a 
mortifying affair, and he was later to give evidence of his resentment. 

Surrey entered upon his work with great energy. He was surrounded by 
young men of like spirit with himself ,some of whom, notably Thomas Wyatt and 
Thomas Cotton, had been his boon companions, and such was the esprit of his 
troops that, until the very close of the year, they kept the French continually at 
disadvantage. They frustrated the plans of the enemy to force an open engage- 
ment by manning the heights above Boulogne ;^° by constant sallies they prevented 
the arrival of provisions at Chatillon f^ they burned the surrounding country and 
killed the cattle ; they captured some of the French transports sent to relieve the 
fort and drove others away;^- they even watched their opportunity to storm the 



26 The Poems oe Surrey 

fort itself and gained the very ramparts before they were repulsed. It was on 
such an occasion that Surrey, carried away by his enthusiasm and forgetful of 
his obligations as commander in chief, endangered his life by standing upon the 
very bridge of the fortress, a boyish action which quite naturally met with the 
disapproval of the King.'^ 

Not only did Surrey outgeneral the enemy on the field, but the equally stub- 
born opposition of the Council at home. The sentiment in England was almost 
unanimous against the war, and the Council were a unit against it. In vain, how- 
ever, did the Duke of Norfolk and the other Councillors complain. Surrey had 
the ear of the King, and the King was a willing listener. "For what his Grace 
(The Duke of Norfolk) and the rest of the Cownsell," writes Thomas Hussey to 
Surrey, "workith for thel render of Bowleyne and the conclewding of a pease in 
VI dais, ye with your letters sett bake in six owrs, sitche importanse be your let- 
ters in the Kyng's oppinion To have my judgement for Bowlleyne, as I can 

lerne eny Counsellour saith : 'Away with it' and the Kinge and your Lord- 
chippe saith : 'We will kepe it ?' "^* 

The opening of the New Year found Surrey full of confidence. On the 
fifth he wrote to the King that the lack of food in the fortress of Chatillon was 
so acute that if the forthcoming plans for revictualing the fortress could be frus- 
trated, the King "should never need to besiege the same." On the following day 
he learned that an expedition had set forth from Montreuil to relieve the fortress. 
He accordingly felt that he must give battle to prevent the arrival of the sup- 
plies. Leaving two thousand men at Boulogne to protect it, Surrey stationed 
twenty six hundred troops, supported by several hundred cavalry, at St. Entienne 
to intercept the expedition. The French wagons of provisions approached, ac- 
companied by the cavalry ahead, five hundred strong, with the infantry, whicn 
numbered, according to both Surrey's account and the French account, about 
four thousand, following. Suddenly the English cavalry charged the French 
cavalry, taking them by surprise, completely routed them, and began to demolish 
the wagons. In the meantime, the English footmen, under the leadership of Sur- 
rey himself, charged the French infantiy with the pike, supported by the harque- 
bussiers. The first English line, composed of gentlemen and captains, bore 
themselves well, but just when victory seemed inevitable, the second line were 
suddenly seized with panic, and, despite every effort to rally them, broke and 
fled, and did not stop until they were safe within the walls of Boulogne.^^ The 
English horse finding themselves unsupported, retired in good order. Accord- 
ing to Surrey's relation, only twenty out of one hundred and ten wagon loads 
of provisions reached Chatillon, but even so, it was a severe blow to the pride 
and confidence of the the young commander. The fortress had been revictualed, 
the morale of his men had been impaired, at least for the present, and though 
he may not have lost more men than the French, a very large percent of those 
killed were among the seasoned fighters and men of family. 

On the following day he wrote a frank account of the affair to the King. 
Henry apparently took a sympathetic attitude, for on January 18, Paget wrote to 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 27 

Surrey thus : "His Majesty, like a prince of wisdom, knows that who plays at a 
game of chaunce, must sometimes loose. "^*' 

However, after a little more than a month, Surrey receive'd the crush- 
ing news that the Earl of Hertford had been made the Lieutenant General on 
land, and Lord Lisle on sea. It was the most cruel disappointment that the 
young Earl had yet experienced. 

How shall we account for this unexpected action? Bapst is of the opinion 
that Surrey's spirit had been broken, that he had become distrustful of himself, 
and that he performed his duties as if they were actually distasteful to him. He 
remarks that after the seventh of January Surrey did not venture another engage- 
ment and even neglected to keep King Henry informed of the situation at Bou- 
logne, so that the Council felt called upon to reproach him. He observes that 
the Earl gave himself up to writing poetry and cites verses^^ written from Bou- 
logne as evidence of Surrey's growing distaste for his position. Is the evidence 
valid, however? I think not. In the poem Surrey says that he met his guide 
(Love), who 

Brought me amiddes the hylles in base Bullayn ; 
Where I am now as restless to remayn 
Against my will, full pleased with my payn. 

Now this poem is a sonnet written in the spirit of the traditional lover's lam- 
ent, and the verses quoted may be merely a graceful compliment. Moreover, if 
they are to be taken as a sincere expression of feeling, we have no warrant for as- 
signing them to the days following the defeat of January 7. They may just as 
well have been written after Surrey learned of his demotion, when he would ex- 
perience a very natural distaste for Boulogne. Of the other poems cited, ^^ one 
is clearly a lament written to voice the distress of Lady Surrey at being separated 
from her husband. The other may be a companion poem with like purpose, or it 
may have been written the previous year to solace Mary Shelton for the absence 
of her lover, Surrey's squire. Sir Thomas Clere, though the fact that it leans 
heavily upon Serafino and Petrarca inclines one to question if it has any bio- 
graphical significance. But as Surrey had asked as early as October^^ to have his 
wife join him, there is no reason for assigning these poems to any particular date. 
They are merely the graceful and aflfectionate products of an hour of relaxation, 
and show how constant was the poet's devotion to his verse. 

Surrey's alleged neglect of his reports and consequent reproof by the Coun- 
cil is based upon a letter dated wrongly December H, in which the Council 
complains that the King had heard indirectly of the death of Sir John Pollard 
and of a conflict with the enemy. Now the probable date of this letter is not Feb- 
ruary 20-25, as conjectured by Bapst, but January H, a mere slip in naming the 
month, for the death of Pollard is announced and the conflict fully described in 
Surrey's letter of January 8. This letter was in some way delayed, perhaps by 
storm, but it was in the hands of the Council within a few days after the eleventh 
for on January 18 Paget replies to it. 

It is true that Surrey did not venture an engagement after the seventh of Jan- 
uary, but it must be remembered that the self-confidence of his men had been 



28 The Poems of Surrey 

shaken by defeat. In his letter of July eighth, he remarks in a postscript that 
probably the enemy will shortly venture to bring future supplies, and asked h's 
Majesty, "to resolve what further is to be done by us." 

I see no reason for thinking that Surrey showed lack of heart or of interest 
prior to his demotion. It is true that on February 20 and 21, he did write letters 
in which he painted the situation in gloomy terms, but as the postscript of these 
letters makes clear, that was after he had learned of his displacement.*'^ 

I believe that the correct explanation is rather to be found in an undated 
letter from Paget to Surrey, written in response to Surrey's letter of March six- 
teenth. In the course of this letter, Paget discusses Surrey's personal situation 
as follovv^s : "Now, my Lord, because you have been pleased I should write 
mine advice to your Lordship in things concerning your honor and benefit, I 
could no less do than put you in remembrance how much in mine opinion this 
shall touch your honour, if you should pass the thing over in silence until the 
very time of my Lord of Hertford's coming over thither; for so should both 
your authority be taken away, as I fear is Boulonnois, and also it should fortune 
ye to come abroad without any place of estimation in the field ; which the world 
would much muse at, and though there be no such matter, think you were rejected 
upon occasion of some either negligence, inexperience, or other such like fault ; 
for so many heads so many judgements. Wherefore, my Lord, in my opinion, 
you should do well to make sure by times to his Majesty to appoint you to some 
place of service in th' army ; as to the captainship of the Foreward, or Rear- 
ward ; or to such other place of honour as should be meet for you ; for so should 
you be where knowledge and experience may be gotten. Wherebv vou should 
the better be able hereafter to serve, and also to have peradventure occasion to 
do some notable service in revenge of your men, at the last encounter with th' 
enimies, which should be to your reputation in the world. Whereas, being 
hitherto noted as you are a man of a noble courage, and of a desire to shew the 
same to the face of your enemies, if you should now tarry at home within a wall, 
having I doubt a shew of your authority touched, it v/ould be thought abroad I 
fear, that either you were desirous to tarry in a sure place of rest, or else that 
the credit of your courage and forwardne.ss to serve had diminished; and that 
you were taken here for a man of (little) activity or service."*^ 

Now I am of the opinion that though Paget was careful to say "though 
there be no such matter," he has actually given voice to the King's own criti- 
cism. Henry recognized that Surrey was a man of great personal bravery, but 
he also appreciated that Surrey's willingness to show his face to the enemy had 
unwarrantably endangered his life. Again, though the King was generou; 
about it, he evidently felt that Surrey had handled the affair badly, for Paget 
plainly says that Surrey has his reputation to win back. Moreover, in the trial 
the following year, Elizabeth Holland, his father's mistress, testified that Surrey 
had complained that the King had expressed displeasure over the defeat at Bou- 
logne ; whether this testimony be true or not, it showed what the King's attitude 
was thought to be. Furthermore, the King rather clearly lacked confidence in 



The Dramatic Caree;r of Surre;y 29 

Surrey's ability to plan the fortifications and to map out a policy for actually taking 
the French fort. Late in December he sent Bellingham, a man of high repute, 
to assist Surrey in these undertakings. In the meantime Surrey had prepared 
plans in conjunction with Sir Thomas Palmer and others; plans which he dis- 
patched by one Rogers, a man of engineering experience, on January fifth, 
though Bellingham had already arrived. Now on March eighth, Surrey still re- 
taining the command of Boulogne, Paget wrote him a letter stating that Rogers, 
as a man in whom confidence was felt, had been authorized to construct the for- 
tifications, and giving as one reason therefor the uncertainty shown by Surrey 
and Palmer, "liking now one thing, and another time misliking the same." Sur- 
rey felt very resentful of this action and took occasion severely to criticize 
Roger's plans. '- 

Henry had come to feel, I believe, that he had over-estimated Surrey's abil- 
ity ; that the Earl was rather too young and inexperienced for the great responsi- 
bilities that had been placed upon him, and that men of more experience were 
needed on the Continent. Consequently he replaced him. Yet the King doubt- 
less felt that Surre}- Vvould become, Avith experience, an able military leader, and 
his attitude is hinted at in the advice contained in Paget's letter. That he took 
his share of the responsibility and wished to make it as easy for Surrey as he 
could, is shown by his grant to Surrey, immediately after his return, of the full 
proprietary right of the Abbey of Wyndham, which the Earl had possessed before 
only in usufruct. 

Surrey retained the command at Boulogne until he was summoned to Eng- 
land by the Council on March 21, obstensibly to confer on the mooted points in the 
plans of fortification. Before he left he had the satisfaction of defeating the 
enemy in a lively engagement, and he wrote home with stern satisfaction that 
"the Frenchmen can run as fast away up the hill, as the Englishmen not long 
ago ran down.''-" 

On the ninth of April, Lord Grey was appointed Governor of Boulogne. 
Grev had been stung by the treatment that he had received the year before, and 
he was eager to injure Surrey as much as possible. Accordingly he discharged 
appointees of Surrey's and accused the Earl himself of dishonesty. Writing 
Paget on July 14, the Earl appealed for the rights of these officers, accused Grey 
in return of assuming one of the offices for his own profit, and proudly defended 
himself with the words: "And for answer, that the said Lord chargeth me to 
have returned the same to my private profect, in his so saying he can have none 
honour. For there be in Boulogne too many witnesses that Henry of Surrey 
was never for singular profect corrupted; nor never yet bribe closed his hand: 
which lesson I learned of my Father and wish to succeed him therein as in the 
rest.""** It is certainly to the credit of Surrey that while in command on the Con- 
tinent he spoke of Grey in terms of praise. Indeed in reading the correspon- 
dence of Surrey with the King and the Council, one is struck by his punctilious 
and generous recognition of subordinates and the modesty with which he alludes 
to himself. 



30 The: Poems of Surrey 

Surrey returned to England embittered in spirit, and especially bitter in 
his feeling toward Hertford. This upstart nobleman was considered worthy to 
be entrusted with a position in which he was deemed to have failed! Imagine 
his feelings, then, when he learned that his father had proposed afresh the mar- 
riage of Thomas Seymour and the Duchess of Richmond and had sought royal 
sanction therefor; indeed, not only had renewed that project but had actually 
proposed a series of marriages between his own children and the children of the 
Seymours. Loftily declaring that while he lived no son of his should ever marry 
a Seymour, he turned upon his sister and with vehement irony told her to go 
ahead with her marriage, and, since her future husband was so great a favor- 
ite, to use her position to insinuate herself into the good graces of the King, 
become his mistress and play the role that the Duchesse d'Etampes — the mis- 
tress of Francis I — enjoyed in France. Surrey accomplished his end, the mar- 
riage projects were abandoned, but the Duchess of Richmond, young, beautiful, 
gifted and ambitious, never forgave her brother for his harsh words. 

So concludes the fourth act of the drama, an act which has been full of the 
ambitions of the warrior and the clash of arms. In it we have seen the rapid 
and brilliant rise of the young hero to a position of great eminence, and then 
we have seen his failure and disappointment. In the meantime, not only has 
his influence been weakened, but the enmity between him and his rivals has stead- 
ily increased, and they are waiting for the opportunity to accomplish his over- 
throw. This, the hero, in his pride and folly, will give them, and therewith be- 
gins the fifth act. 

According to the Aristotelian tradition, the ideal tragic hero is a man o'' 
power and of nobility, who towers far above ordinary mortals both in worldly 
fortune and in distinction of character, but who has some fatal defect which 
brings its tragic retribution. Surrey was such a hero, the fatal defect was his 
pride. 

As the year 1546 progressed, it became increasingly evident that the 
health of the King was failing and gossip was rife as to who should fill the of- 
fice of Protector of the young Prince. As there were only two Dukes in England 
at the time, and as the Duke of Suffolk was not of age, the presumption was in 
favor of Norfolk. Moreover his name had been mentioned in connection with 
the throne as long ago as the divorce of Queen Katharine. Surrey did not hesi- 
tate to champion his father's claims, even in hostile quarters. Thus on one oc- 
casion he haughtily advocated them in a conversation with a companion of his 
military days, one Sir George Blage, a Low Churchman, who had narrowly es- 
caped a martyr's death at Smithfield, and who felt bitterly hostile to Norfolk as 
a champion of the High Church party. The conversation ended in angry words 
and threats, and Blage was not slow to spread the alarm among the sympathizers 
of the Low Church. In the trial of Surrey this conversation was repeated by a 
witness. Sir Edward Rogers, as follows: "Recollects that Mr. Blage, about a 
year or three quarters of a year ago, speaking of the matter here ensuing, re- 
lated how he had said to the Earl of Surrey that he thought that such as the 



The Dramatic Career of Surrey 31 

King should specially appoint thereto should be meetest to rule the Prince in 
the event of the King's death. The Earl on the contrary held that his father 
was meetest, both for good services done and for estate. Blage replied that 
then the Prince should be but evil taught ; and, in mulplying words, said 'Rather 
than it should come to pass that the Prince should be under the government ot 
your father or you, 1 would bide the adventure to thrust this dagger in you.' 
The Earl said that he was very hasty, and that God sent a shrewd cow short 
horns. 'Yea, my lord (quod Blage), and I trust your horns also shall be kept 
so short as ye shall not be able to do any hurt with them.' Afterwards the Earl, 
who at the time had no weapon, took sword and dagger and went to Blage's 
house 'and said unto him, that of late he had been very hasty with him' ; but what 
passed further Deponent does not remember."*"* 

The feeling between the two factions became increasingly acute, and Sur- 
rey, rashly confident, even prophesied the punishment that his enemies should re- 
ceive when once the King was dead : "The new men," he said "should smart 
for it." The new men, for their part, had no desire to smart, and they cast 
about for some accusation which would appeal to the passions of the King. A 
needless act of vanity and folly gave them just the material that they desired. 
It all arose over Surrey's coat-of-arms. We have already quoted the testimony 
given by Mistress Arundel before the city authorities in 1543 to the effect that 
Surrey's arms looked very like those of the King. It was of course very proper 
that they should, for the Howards had hereditary claim to the lions of England. 
Yet this similarity was not pleasant for those who regarded with apprehension 
the ambitions of the young Earl to contemplate. Now in 1545, prior to his de- 
parture for France, Surrey had had a long discussion with Christopher Barker, 
the Richmond Herald, as to his right to include the supposed arms of Edward the 
Confessor in his escutcheon.*" As Barker reported the conversation, he had 
maintained that Surrey had no claim to these arms; on the other hand, in the 
course of his trial Surrey stated that the Heralds' College had given a favorable 
opinion.*^ Be that as it may, did Surrey actually have the right to quarter his 
arms with those of the Confessor? It is a nice point to determine. He based 
his claim upon a grant made to his ancestor, Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- 
folk, by Richard 11.*^ Surrey of course had clear hereditary title to the arms 
of Mowbray, but whether he had the right to that particular quarter that con- 
tained the arms of the Confessor, depends upon whether Richard made the grant 
to Thomas Mowbray only, or to him and his heirs. This we do not know. Par- 
liament finally decided the matter when, upon the release of the Duke of 
K'orfolk at the accession of Mary, it passed an act stating that the Howard 
family had clear title to the debated quarter. 

But Surrey's enemies were not concerned with such nice points, and when 
in October 1546, Surrey actually included the royal arms and the arms of the 
Confessor in an escutcheon which he had painted on his own apartments at 
Kenninghall, they saw their opportunity. They felt their fingers closing around 
the throat of this obnoxious young aristocrat, and Sir Richard Southwell, a 



32 The Poems of Surrey 

friend of boyhood days and an associate in the French campaign/" hurried to 
the Council to announce that Surrey had conspired against the King and was 
guilty of treason. According to Southwell, Surrey ha^ placed the royal arms 
in the first quarter of his escutcheon and had also introduced into it the arms of 
the Confessor, modifying the last by a silver label, a significant modification for, 
since the label was used by the Prince to distinguish his arms from those of the 
King, Surrey's use of it was a plain intimation of his purpose to supplant the 
royal heir. To be sure Norfolk confessed at his trial that "I have without authority 
borne in the first and principal quarter of my arms, ever since the death of my 
father, the arms of England Vv^ith a difference of three labels of silver, which 
are the proper arms of my Lord the Prince. I confess my crime no less than 
high treason."^" Yet this abject testimony, given in an effort to save his life, is not 
to be taken too seriously and it is a question if he or Surrey ever did place the 
royal arms in any other position than the second quarter, where in sixteenth 
century heraldry they appear. But even had Southwell's statement been true, 
there would have been nothing unique in the procedure, for the Earl of Wilt- 
shire bore them in the first quarter, and so did the Earl of Hertford, who 
was the most eager of all the conspirators. 

But childish as the charges were, the Council gravely proceeded to summon 
Surrey before them to face his accuser. This was on the second of December. 
Surrey was dumbfounded when he heard himself accused of so grave a crime by 
an old friend, and, medieval knight that he was, never thought of defending 
himself in any other way, but passionately offered to throw off his garments 
and fight with Southv/ell, leaving it to Divine Justice to decide between them. 
It was a proposal that belonged to another age, but it was one that eloquently be- 
speaks the innocence of Surrey. The Council did not take kindly to such a 
conception of justice and assigned the two men to a place of detention until fur- 
ther evidence could be secured. 

When it became noised abroad that Surrey was under suspicion, and that 
evidence against him was in order, all those who had been offended by his 
pride, or who envied him his position, or who feared his influence, came into 
the open, eager to testify against him. One was his cousin. Sir Edmund Knyvet.^^ 
His contemptible spirit is shown by the character of his testimony; he alleged 
that Surrey had a predilection for foreigners, that he affected foreign dress, that 
he kept an Italian buffoon, that he had once taken into his employ a former 
servant of Cardinal Pole, and that he had concluded a quarrel with the significant 
words : "No, no, cousin Knyvet, I malice not so low ; my malice is higher ; my 
malice climbs higher." Such testimony was too childish to be taken seriously, 
but not so the testimony of Sir Gawain Carew who, wilfully misconstruing the 
ironical advice given the Duchess of Richmond by her brother on the occasion 
of her proposed marriage with Thomas Seymour, accused Surrey of having 
urged his sister to encourage the King to approach her with reference to such a 
marriage, that she might worm herself into the good graces of the King and gain 
the power of a mistress over him. This testimony was at least a commentary upon 
the popular conception of the King. 



Thk Dramatic Career of Surrey 33 

On the twelfth of December, the Council felt justified in liberating Southwell 
and in committing Surrey to the Tower. On the same day his father was 
committed as an accomplice. 

In order to humiliate Surrey the more and to stir up the popular hue and 
cry against him, the Council compelled him to walk to the Tower. But they little 
knew the feeling of the populace toward the young nobleman, and their mean- 
ness proved to be a boomerang, for as he passed along the streets the people 
made "great lamentacion."^- To them he was the sturdy young nobleman who 
dared to use his fists as any self-respecting Englishman should, the dashing young 
knight who could thrill one in the tourney, the sturdy soldier who was first 
to set foot on the enemy's ramparts, the prince of good fellows who enjoyed 
London ale and a lark at night, the beau-ideal of a young aristocrat, handsome, 
distinguished in bearing, exacting in dress, brilliant in mind, one who showed 
what England could do by way of a man. All other public interests became 
as nothing compared to the commitment of these highest nobles of the realm. 
One gets some idea of the stir that it made and of the wild rumors abroad 
from the correspondence of the day. The letters of L,ow Churchmen show how 
jubilant they were at this blow struck at the staunchest upholders of the old 
regime. "The news from England is as agreeable as the above is distressing," 
writes John Burcher to Henry Bullinger, the Swiss Reformer, on December 31. 
"The Duke of Norfolk whose authority extended to the North of England — a most 
bitter enemy of the word of God — has been imprisoned, with his son, with whom 
he made a secret attempt to restore the Pope and the monks ; but their design 
was discovered."^^ 

As for the official correspondence, a few days of confused rumor were 
followed by a deliberate attempt to determine sentiment abroad. The Council 
were especially solicitous that the Emperor, who would naturally question the 
arrest of such eminent Catholic sympathizers, should not be aroused, and they 
left no room for remonstrance. Under date of December 25, Van der Delft 
wrote to Charles V as follows : "There was a large assembly of Councillors, as 
they were occupied about the Duke of Norfolk and his son who are prisoners. 
Next day the Lord Chancellor sent word, by the writer's man, that Norfolk 
and his son had planned to obtain the government of the King, who was too 
old to allow himself to be governed, by murdering all the Council and assuming 
control of the Prince. Surrey, however, had not been under arrest in the Lord 
Chancellor's house for this, but for writing a threatening letter to a gentleman ; 
Jtwo other gentlemen had come forward and charged them with conspiracy. 
Surrey, though he has always been so generous to his countrymen, is not beloved 
by them. The feeling against the father is less severe."^* To make assurance 
doubly sure, the English ambassador at the Imperial court had been carefully in- 
structed to educate the Emperor in the matter, and on December 26 he wrote 
that though he had not secured audience as yet, he had conferred with one of the 
chief secretaries and had detailed to him "the busy head of the father and the 
pride of the son."^^ 

-2 



34 The; Poems of Surrey 

On the same day that Norfolk and Surrey were placed in the Tower a 
commission of three, including Southwell, a brother or cousin of Carew, and one 
of the royal secretaries, left for Kenninghall to make any incriminating discoveries 
that they could. The frightened servants put everything at their disposal, but 
nothing of moment was found. However, they brought back with them Eliza- 
beth Holland and the Duchess of Richmond. The testimony of the former had 
little bearing upon the conduct of the Earl, but the Duchess, who had clearly never 
forgiven Surrey for frustrating the plans for her marriage, gave much damaging 
testimony, which has all the earmarks of being inspired. She substantiated the 
accusation of Carew, averred that her brother was accustomed to speak of Hert- 
ford with the utmost bitterness, complained that he spoke threateningly of the 
protestants and discouraged her from reading much in the Scriptures, asserted 
that he had surmounted his arms with what "seemed to her like a close crown, and 
a cipher which she took to be the King's cipher, H. R." The arms of Surrey did 
actually include a crown, but it was the crown of the Stuarts, which, because 
of his great victory at Flodden Field, the first Duke of Norfolk had been per- 
mitted to include in his escutcheon. This the Duchess must have known, and it 
invalidated all of her charges. 

After carefully weighing the testimony that had been submitted, the Council 
decided that the only charge that could be made to appear valid was that of 
treason, implied in the adoption of the arms of Edward the Confessor. The 
bill of indictment was as follows: "That whereas Parliament of 8 June to 18 
July 28 Hen. VHI enacted that whosoever, by words, writings, printing, or other 
external act, maliciously shall procure anything to the peril of the King's person 
or give occasion whereby the King or his successors might be disturbed in their 
possession of the Crown, etc. (Stat. 28 Hen. VHI cap. 7, 12) shall be guilty oi 
high treason; And whereas Henry VHI is true King of England, and Edward 
formerly King of England, commonly called Saynt Edward the Confessor, in 
right of the said realm of England, used certain arms and ensigns, viz., 'asur a 
crosse flewry betwene fyve merlettes golde,' belonging to the said King Edward 
and his progenitors in right of the Crown of England, which arms and ensigns 
are therefore appropriate to the King and to no other person; And whereas 
Edward now prince of England, the King's son, and heir apparent, bears, as heir 
apparent, the said arms and ensigns wdth three labels called 'thre labelles sylver' ; 
Nevertheless, one Henry Howard, late of Kennyngale, K. G., otherwise 
called Henry earl of Surrv, on 7 Oct. 3S Hen. VIII, at Kennynggale, in 
the house of Thomas Duke of Norfolk, his father, openly used, and traitor- 
ously caused to be depicted, mixed and conjoined with his own arms and 
ensigns, the said arms and ensigns of the King, with 'thre labelles sylver.' "^^ 
The absurdity of the charge is evident from the fact that after the time of 
Richard II, who had assumed the supposed arms of the Confessor because he had 
chosen St. Edward as his patron saint, no King of England had used these 
arms, and there is no evidence that Prince Edward did so. But the charge w^as 
one that appealed to the prejudices and jealousies of the dying King, and that 
could be made to carry with an obsequious jury. 



The Dramatic Career of vSurrey 35 

P'rom the Earl of Hertford to the last juryman, judges and jury were 
chosen with scrupulous care, and when Surrey came to his trial at the Guildhall 
on the thirteenth of January, he found himself face to face with a group of old- 
time enemies whose very presence betrayed what the verdict was to be.^' It was 
characteristic of the Earl, such was his sense of personal dignity and of the 
fitness of things, to appear at the trial clad in a suit of sombre color, the cost 
of which was generously borne by the Lieutenant of the Tower. The trial began 
at nine o'clock in the morning and lasted until five in the afternoon. For a man 
to conduct his own defense for eight hours in the presence of a hostile judiciary 
and jury, confronted with evidence which he had been given no opportunity to 
consider in advance, for a man to do this and, in the eyes of an impartial witness, 
carry off the honors is evidence of sincerity, rare self-control, and thorough 
knowledge of the points involved. '"Some things he flatly denied," says Stone 
in his Chronicle, "weakening the credits of his accusers by certaine circumstances ; 
others he excused with interpretations of his meanings to prove the same to be far 
otherwise than was alledged against him." His hauteur did not desert him even 
in this hour. When a certain witness told of an insolent reply that he had made 
in the course of a purpoted conversation with Surrey, the prisoner merely turned 
to the jury with superb dignity and said, "I leave it to you to judge whether it 
were probable that this man should speak thus to the Earl of Surrey, and he not 
strike him." On occasion, too, his contempt for some low-boni politician would 
come to the surface, as when irritated by the questions of Paget, he abruptly 
punctured his vanity by alkiding to him as a "happe-chair" and "the worthy son of 
a bailiff." Finally the farcical trial was brought to a close, and the prisoner was 
condemned to death for high treason. 

In the shadow of death, Surrey turned once more to poetry for his comfort 
and his solace. That art which he had cultivated with such devotion in other 
days, days of sunshine or of cloud, was yet to be his stay. Through it his spirit 
was to soar above the trammels of fortune and to dwell in the realm of the ideal. 
Obstensibly he translated the first five chapters of Ecclesiastes and certain of the 
Psalms, but he allowed his mind to play about the thought of the original with 
the utmost freedom, and the poems breathe the social atmosphere of Tudor 
England. The chapters from Ecclesiastes lend themselves to that elegiac strain 
which has ever been so near the surface in the English temperament, and 
Surrey's adaptation of these chapters to the sentiments uppermost in his mind 
is a sixteenth century expression of that poignant sense of the illusion of boastful 
heraldry and of pomp and glory to which an eighteenth century elegist was to 
give supreme utterance. The vanity and cruelty of the struggle for wealth and 
position, the worth of lowly contentment, such are the recurring themes. They 
anticipate the words of another sixteenth century child of suffering, Thomas 
Dekker, in his beautiful lyric : 

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? 

O sweet content ! 

I'he poet was gaining that compassionate sense of kinship which expands the 

heart. More passionate and even more personal are the translations from the 



36 The Poems oe Surrey 

Psalms. Of the three translated at this time — 98, 73 and 55 — , the 55th, though 
coming last in the manuscript, was doubtless written first. In lines tremulous with 
indignation and scorn, the poet, adapting to his own experience the experience of 
the Psalmist, laments that he should have been betrayed by a friend whom he had 
long trusted, and calls upon God, as the champion of the righteous, to 

Rayne those unbrydled tungs, breake that coniured league. 
This Psalm was probably written before the trial. Of very different temper 
are the other two Psalms, which are the lofty utterances of a spirit that was 
seeking to find its rest in God. In the 98th it is driven hither and yon by the 
whirling of the storm ; in the 73rd it has found God and rests peacefully in him, 
far above the impotent cruelty of wicked men. 

Most significant are the prologues of these two Psalms, one of which was 
addressed to George Blage, with whom Surrey had had the quarrel which pre- 
cipitated his trial, and the other to Sir Antony Denny, one of the secretaries of 
the King, who must have had a hand in Surrey's downfall. Never more cour- 
ageous than in the presence of death, Surrey would have his enemies understand 
that he no longer feared what man could do unto him. 

The execution of Surrey took place just a week after the trial, on Tower hill. 

How did he die ? No record tells of his deportment on the scaffold, but he 
died as such a man only could die, — upheld by a noble indifference to his 
persecutors. 

The tragedy of Surrey's death is accentuated by the fact that the life of his 
father, whose trial and conviction, because of his high rank, took the slower 
course of parliamentary procedure, was saved by the timely death of the King. 
Though Norfolk was condemned to die, the Protector and his party feared that 
if their first official act was the execution of the foremost nobleman in the realm, 
the storm of popular disapproval would be more than they could weather. Conse- 
quently Norfolk was merely imprisoned, to be released five years later by Mary. 
Had the belated death of Henry occurred a few days earlier, Surrey would prob- 
ably have been accorded like treatment. With such caprice does Fortune seem 
to play with human life ! 

The apparel of Surrey was not given to the hangman, but divided among 
the hungry vultures that had taken his life, so much more greedy were English 
gentlemen of the sixteenth century than Roman gentlemen of the first. The Earl 
of Hertford and Sir Henr}^ Seymour secured the greater part of the booty. 
In the garments that fell to the lot of Hertford figures a Parliament robe of 
purple velvet and a hat of crimson satin and velvet, with a white feather, perhaps 
the very hat that appears in the portrait of Surrey now at Hampton Court, done 
by Guillim Stretes shortly before the Earl's death. 

Now draws the drama to its end. Let the closing scene be as follows : In 
the background friends removing the body of the dead Earl for its burial at 
All-Hallows-Barking ; in the foreground greedy men dividing his garments. Then 
falls the curtain upon this tragedy of a life. 



Surrey's Contribution to English Verse 

Although Surrey died before he had reached his thirtieth birthday, he 
advanced the art of English poetry more than any other writer between Chaucer 
and Spenser. Wyatt, to be sure, did much interesting experimentation and left 
a body of verse of distinct excellence, verse that is still greatly undervalued. 
Wyatt tried his hand at the sonnet, the rondeau, the epigram, the terza rima, the 
rhyme royal, and a wide variety of graceful and fleet-footed metrical forms. 
His best verse is direct, forceful, sinuous, pithy, delightfully varied in tempo, 
and has the Gallic abandon and archful insouciance. He exerted, however, less 
influence upon the English tradition than did Surrey, and this for three reasons : 
hrst, because little of his best verse found its way into print in the sixteenth cen- 
tury ; secondly, because the spirit of his verse is more French than English ; and 
thirdly, because he did not have much part in certain fundamental reforms in 
prosody undertaken by Surrey, reforms that at once commended themselves 
and made Wyatt's verse by comparison appear archaic. English poetry is the 
poorer for not having taken more advantage of the intellectual litheness and 
saucy grace that Wyatt attempted to embody into it, but the set of the English 
genius is not that way. 

Surrey's outstanding contribution to prosody was his insistence that metrical 
accent should be coincident with sentence stress and word accent, that is, that the 
metrical accent should fall upon the words which are naturally stressed because 
of their importance, and upon the accented, rather than upon the unaccented, 
syllables of such words. The prevailing disregard of this principle may be il- 
lustrated by the following sonnet, one of Wyatt's earlier compositions : 

The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar. 

And in my hert doeth kepe his residence. 

Into my face prescth with bolde pretence, 
And therein campeth spreding his baner. 
She that me lerneth to love and suffre, 

And willes that my trust and lustes negligence 

Be rayned by reason, shame, and reverence, 

With his hardines taketh displeasure. 
Where with all unto the hertes forrest he fleith, 

Leving his enterprise with payn and cry. 

And ther him hideth and not appereth. 
What may I do where my maister fereth. 

But in the feld with him to lyve and dye? 

For goode is the liflF ending faithfully."® 

It will be observed that the poet does not hesitate to throw the accent upon 
prepositions, conjunctions, pronouns and demonstratives ; upon the final eth 

(37) 



38 The Poems of Surrey 

of the old conjugation of verbs, as preseth, appereth; upon the final syllable 
of dissyllabic nouns, as harbdr, forrest; and a second accent upon the final 
syllable of trisyllabic nouns, as negligence, displeasure. In these practices, Wyatt 
was in line with his predecessors. By common consent it was recognized as 
legitimate to throw the accent upon the last syllable of verbs in eth, upon the ing 
of the participle, and upon the final syllable of nouns derived from the French. 
The last was probably regarded as giving a certain archaic grace and enjoyed 
the authority of Chaucer, who, however, was of course justified by the pro- 
nounciation of his day. 

Surrey recognized that such liberties were opposed to the practice of the 
continental poets and he set about reforming English verse accordingly. In 
the main he was successful in observing the principle that the natural accent 
of words must be observed and that the important words should receive the 
accent. Violations are, to be sure, not altogether infrequent. Thus the accent 
occasionally falls on the weak syllable of a noun, as. 

Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate. 

The wylde forest, the clothed holtes with grene. 

In my window, where I may see. 

Lurked, whose brestes envye with hate had sowne. 

All told, however, there are hardly more than a dozen such lines. '^^ In a few 
rare instances, unless indeed the foot is to be regarded as a trochee thrust into 
the middle of a verse, the accent falls on the ing of a present participle, as in the 
lines, 

Ffraughted with faith, a pacient pace, taking her wrong in worth. 

In presence of the godes, passing before. 

Rarely the accent falls on the en of a past participle: 
The shippes shaken, vnf rindlie the season. 

Occasionally the accent is thrown on the eth of the old present: 
At length her self bordeth Aeneas thus. 
And nourysheth hys sacred flame. 

Not infrequently and especially in translation, the accent rests on a conjunc- 
tion, preposition, or article: 

With sower, swete, dreade and delight. 

seithe eke. Oft in her lappe she holds 
Askanius, trapte by his fathers fourme. 



Surrey's Contribi'Tion to English Verse 39 

The next namede a pomegranate tree, whereby the truth was knowne. 

In the great majority of cases, however, in which the accent appears to be 
thrown on such insignificant words, it will be found that the foot occurs just after 
the caesura, and is really a trochee, for the poet had evidently adopted the 
principle that a trochee could be used after the caesura with the same appro- 
priateness as at the beginning of a verse. Thus : 

The shadowe danke gan from the pole remove. 

As time has placed the stamp of its approval upon Surrey's reforms in 
accentuation, so also upon his continuance of certain traditional practices. Thus 
he permitted iambic verses to begin with initial trochees, in one sonnet beginning 
as many as six lines with this foot, he recognized the poetic quality in the 
older conjugation of verbs, and he frequently treated as a syllable the ed of the 
preterit and past participle, as parch-ed, surprys-ed, dispoyl-ed. He also recog- 
nized the monosyllabic foot, where the thought permits compensatory lengthen- 
ing, as 

Now he comes ; will he come ? Alas, no, no ! 

Of certain prosodic traditions that Surrey accepted, time, to be sure, has not 
approved. Thus Surrey uses excessively the auxiliary verb do, as doe holde, doe 
cease, doth bring — a practice, to be sure, in which the Elizabethan lyrists 
followed him, and he occasionally resorts to such line fillers as for to, I wis, 
right zvcll. In the main, however, Surrey so reformed English prosody that 
later poets have but refined upon his practices. 

In the use of the caesura, or pause, Surrey shows a cultivated rhythmical 
sense. In iambic pentameter verse, he usually rests after the second foot, but 
this practice is not allowed to become mechanical, and is relieved by shifting 
the caesura back to the first foot and forward to the fourth. A favorite 
practice is to pause after the second foot, and then to make a secondary pause 
after the fourth. In the poulter's measure — a rhymed couplet consisting of a 
verse of six feet and a verse of seven — the caesura, as the genius of this verse 
demands, almost invariably occurs after the third foot of the first verse and the 
fourth foot of the second, but the jog-trot effect is modified by a frequent 
additional pause after the second foot of the second verse, as 

For all thynges hauing life/sometime haue quiet rest, 
The bering asse,/the drawing oxe,/and euery other beast. 

In the shorter lines the caesura is not a problem, for in such verse the problem 
of pause becomes the problem of the run-over lines. 

Surrey of course falls far short of the modern practice in the use of run- 
over lines. Although in one late sonnet (No. 91) there are five run-overs, Sur- 
rey employs the run-over but sparingly in verses of four or more feet in length. 



40 Ths Poems of Surrey 

but it must be remembered that the Elizabethans themselves usually observed 
the end-stop in the sonnets and that Shakespeare only discovered after much ex- 
perimentation the possibilities of the run-over in blank verse. In the light-foot 
metres, on the other hand, Surrey uses the run-over constantly, after the 
manner of Wyatt and the French poets. 

As to verse forms, Surrey's claims to distinction rest upon his establish- 
ment of the Shakespeare sonnet and his introduction of blank verse. After a 
variety of experiments, he settled upon the rhyme scheme a b a b, c d c d, e f e f , 
gg, for the sonnet, and thus cast the mold for the most popular Elizabethan 
form. In the thought divisions of the sonnet, he follow^ed no fixed practice, 
employing various divisions, 8-6 (No. 8), 4- .5-5 (Nos. 9 and 1), 4-8-2 (Nos. 
40 and 45), M^ith a preference, however, as in Shakespeare, for the division 
4-4-4-2 (Nos. 4, 6, 44, 47, etc.) 

Stimulated by an Italian version of the fourth book of the Mneid that ap- 
peared in 1534 and an Italian version of the first six books that appeared in 
1540, Surrey translated into English the second and fourth books, chosen because 
of their greater dramatic value and superior literary quality, employing, like the 
Italians, blank verse as his medium. The translation is succinct, forceful and 
spirited, and the movement fairly rapid. Even to the modern ear, accustomed 
to the flexibility and music of Marlowe, Shakespeare and Milton, Surrey's 
blank verse is not unpleasant reading, and it is characterized by a certain severe 
dignity that gives it distinction. Approximately one fourth of the lines are 
run-overs, in which respect Surrey's work compares creditably with the earlier 
blank verse of the Elizabethans, and while the caesura occurs after the second 
foot in fifty per cent of the lines, and after the fourth foot in thirty, it is 
nevertheless shifted with some degree of freedom. For this one innovation of 
blank verse, English poetry owes Surrey a debt quite incalculable, though it is an 
open question to what extent he was responsible for the Elizabethan use of this 
measure. 

Aside from the sonnet stanza and blank verse, Surrey experimented with a 
variety of metres. He showed a particular fondness for the poulter's measure, 
using it in several of his love poems and in his translations from the Psalms 
and Ecclesiastes. This choice was rather unfortunate, for it encouraged a 
whole group of succeeding rhymesters to fancy themselves poets, but Surrey 
secured as good effects as were possible with so sing-song a metre. In the 
translation of Psalm 55, he broke away from the measure and attempted a 
blank verse of iambic hexameters, a metre that gives one the peculiar effect of 
alternately sliding down between waves and sweeping along on the crest of them. 

In common with Wyatt, Surrey appreciated the metrical adaptability of the 
terza rima to English verse and experimented with it variously, in one poem em- 
ploying it in pentameter lines (No. 11), in another, in quatrameters (No. 32). As V 
Surrey does not observe stanzaic divisions in these poems but allows the thought 
to flow as at will, Saintsbury has preferred to think of such verse as rather a 



Surrey's Contribution to English Verse 41 

series of interlacing triple rhymes than as the terza rima proper. Be that as 
it may, the felicity of the terza rima in pentrametric verse is convincingly 
demonstrated. In the four foot verse this rhyme scheme has an almost im- 
pudent assertiveness, but that is the very effect that Surrey was aiming for in 
his fine satire on London. Genius alone could have chosen such a metrical 
vehicle for this inimitable mock herioc poem. 

Again following the example of Wyatt, Surrey experimented with various 
stanzas of three and four foot lines: a four verse stanza of three foot lines, 
with the rhyme scheme a b a b (No. 12) ; a similar stanza of four foot lines 
(No. 14) ; a six verse stanza of four foot lines, with the rhyme scheme a b a b c c 
(Nos. 13, 18) ; an eight verse stanza of three foot lines, with the rhyme scheme 
ababcdcd (No. 16); a six verse stanza of four foot lines, with the rhyme 
scheme ababcc (No. 19) ; a six verse stanza of alternate four foot and three 
foot lines, with the rhyme scheme a b a c b c, a skillful and most pleasing metre 
(No. 20) ; and a seven verse stanza with lines of the following feet, 4 3 4 3 445, 
and the rhyme scheme ababacc (No. 21). This stanza, with its longer final 
verse, is somewhat prophetic of the Spenserian stanza. 

Throughout his poetry, from the early polite verse to the translation of the 
Mneid, Surrey persistently employs alliteration, showing how deeply rooted 
was this ancient English predilection. Ordinarily the effect is distinctly pleas- 
ing, but it is perhaps a question if he does not over employ alliteration at times, 
as in the poem, "The soote season, that bud and blome furth brings," which 
seems almost self-consciously alliterative. 

Surrey's diction is direct, firm, and muscular, but flexible and euphonious. 
It employs just enough words of Latin and French origin to give richness and 
dignity to the homely, fibrous, native element. In the amatory and polite verse, 
approximately five and one half per cent of the words are of Latin or French 
derivation ; in the translations from Ecclesiastes, seven per cent ; in the trans- 
lations from the Psalms, five per cent ; and in the Mneid, a little over eight 
per cent. 

Surrey was an admiring pupil of Chaucer, and he employs certain charac- 
teristically Chaucerian words, phrases, and constructions that give a mildly 
archaic flavor to his diction. Another distinctive quality making for quaint- 
ness is the tendency to use nouns and adjectives as verbs, as in the following: 

But mercy him thy frende that doth thee serue. 
The wynters hurt recovers with the warm. 

The range of the poetry is fairly wide. It includes love poems, which for 
the most part are graceful experiments in polite verse, with only a slight adum- 
bration, it would seem, of personal experience : autobiographical poems, definite- 
ly related to personal experience and delightfully intimate and frank; moral and 
didactic poems, in line with the current Renaissance revival of this Latin strain. 



42 The Poems of Surrey 

a strain most congenial to the English temperament ; elegiac poems, personal, 
generous, and affectionate; translations from Ecclesiastes and the Psalms, freely- 
rendered, and construed to English life and the poet's own peculiar experience, 
showing that sturdy capacity for adaptation which is always to be found in a 
vital literary epoch ; and translations from the Mneid that are forceful, nervous, 
and plastic, that have the feel of Virgil and the feel of Tudor England as well. 

Although Surrey lived a scant three decades, he left a substantial body of 

verse, and made a permanent impression upon English poetry. He discovered the 

Tjrosodic genius of modern English, he defined modern poetical diction, and he 

itroduced the metre in which much of the noblest poetry of our language has 

?n cast. 



POEMS 

Love Poems p^^^ 

1. A Nocturnal Lament 45 

2. A Spring Lament 45 

3. The Cruelty of Hidden Charms 46 

4. A Lovers Loyalty to Love 46 

5. Loves Extremes 46 

6. A Lovers Vow 47 

7. The Frailty of Beauty 47 

8. A Plea for Constancy 48 

9. In Absentia 48 

10 The Twofold Power of Love 48 

IL A Plea for Mercy 49 

12. A Game of Chess 50 

13. A Goodly Ensample 51 

14. The Trammels of Love 52 

15. A Lesson in Love 5o 

16. Rueful Associations 54 

17. An Unchanging Lover 55 

18. A Mistress Nonpareil 56 

19. From a Loyal Lover Overseas 57 

20. A Modern Ulysses 57 

21. A Ladys Lament for Her Lover Overseas 58 

22. A Sophisticated Lover 59 

23. Strive Not With Love 61 

24. A Stricken Shepherd 62 

25. A Friendly Warning 64 

26. The Fickleness of Woman 64 

27. Modern Saws and Ancient Instance 65 

28. Calm After Storm 66 

Autobiographical Poems 

29. The Lady Geraldine 68 

30. Windsor Memories 68 

31. The Poets Lament for His Lost Boyhood 69 

32. A Satire on London, The Modern Babylon 70 

33. Lady Surreys Lament for Her Absent Lord 72 

34. An Irate Host 73 

35. Prolog to Psalm 88 75 

36. Prolog to Psalm 73 75 

37. Reflections From the Tower 76 

(43) 



44 Poems 

Moral and Didactic Poems „ 

Page 

38. A Tribute to Wyatts Psalms 71 

39. Epigram to Radcliffe 77 

40. Sardanapalus 77 

41. The Happy Life 78 

42. The Golden Mean 78 

43. The Ages of Man 79 

Elegiac Poems 

44. A Tribute to Wyatt 80 

45. A Second Tribute to Wyatt 80 

46. A Third Tribute to Wyatt 81 

47. A Tribute to Thomas Claire 82 

Translations From the Bible 

48. Ecclesiastes 1. 83 

49. Ecclesiastes 2. 84 

50. Ecclesiastes 3. 86 

51. Ecclesiastes 4. 88 

52. Ecclesiastes 5. ' 89 

53. Psalm 8. 91 

54. Psalm 55. 92 

55. Psalm 88. 93 

56. Psalm 73. 94 

Translations From the ^neid 

57. Book 2. 97 

58. Book 4. 122 



LOVE POEMS 

1 

A NocTURNAi. Lament 

Alas! so all thinges nowe doe holde their peace: ■- 

Heauen and earth disturbed in nothing; \ 

The beastes, the ayer, the birdes their song doe cease ;■ 

The nightes chare the starres aboute dothe bring. 

Calme is the sea, the waues worke lesse and lesse ; ^ 5 

So am not I, whom loue, alas ! doth wring, w 

Bringing before my face the great encrease r.j 

Of my desires, whereat I wepe and syng, ^^ 

In ioye and wo, as in a doubtful ease : 

For my swete thoughtes sometyme doe pleasure bring, 10 

But, by and by, the cause of my disease 

Geues me a pang that inwardly dothe sting, 

When that I thinke what griefe it is againe 

To Hue and lacke the thing should ridde my paine. 



2 

A Spring Lame;nt 

The soote season, that bud and blome furth bringes, 

With grene hath clad the hill and eke the vale ; >r 

The nightingale with f ethers new she singes;,' 

The turtle to her make hath tolde her tale. 

Somer is come, for euery spray nowe springes ; 5 

The hart hath hong his olde hed on the pale ; 

The buck in brake his winter cote he flings ; 

The fishes flote with newe repaired scale ; 

The adder all her sloughe awaye she slinges; 

The swift swalow pursueth the flyes smale; ' 10 

The busy bee her honye now she minges. 

Winter is worne, that was the flowers bale. 

And thus I see among these pleasant thinges 

Eche care decayes, and yet my sorow springes. 



(45) 



46 The Poems of Surrey 

3 

The Cruelty of Hidden Charms 

I neuer saw youe, madam, laye aparte 

Your cornet black, in colde nor yet in heate, 

Sythe first ye knew of my desire so greate. 

Which other f ances chaced cleane from my harte.y 

Whiles to my self I did the thought reserve . 5 

That so vnware did wounde my wofull brest^^ 

Pytie I saw within your hart dyd rest ; 

But since ye knew T did youe love and serve,(V/' 

Your golden treese was clad alway in blacke; 

Your smilyng lokes were hid thus euermore, 10 

All that withdrawne that I did crave so sore. 

So doth this cornet governe me, a lacke ! 

In sommere, sonne ; in winter, breath of frost ; 

Of your faire eies whereby the light is lost. 

4 
' A Lovers Loyalty to Love 

Love that doth raine and liue within my thought, 

And buylt his seat within my captyve brest. 

Clad in the armes wherein with me he fowght, 

Oft in my face he doth his banner rest. 

But she that tawght me love and suffre paine, 5 

My doubtful hope & eke my bote desire 

With shamfast looke to shadoo and refrayne^- 

Her smyling grace convertyth streight to yre. \ 

And covvarde Love, then, to the hart apace 

Taketh his flight, where he doth lurke and playne L- 10 

His purpose lost, and dare not shew his face. V 

For my lordes gilt thus f awtles byde I payine ; •'' 

Yet from my lorde shall not my foote remove : 

Sweet is the death that taketh end by love. 

5 
Loves Extreimes 

In Cipres springes — wheras dame Venus dwelt — 

A welle so bote, that who so tastes the same, 

Were he of stone, as thawed yse shuld melt. 

And kindled fynde his brest with secret flame; 

Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate. 5 

This creping fier my cold lymmes so oprest 



Love PoEiNis 47 

That, in the hart that harbred fredom late, 

Endles dispaire long thraldom hath imprest. 

One, eke so cold, in f roson snow is found, *>- 

Whose chilling venume of repugnaunt kind y 1^ 

The fervent heat doth quenche of Cupides Wound/^ 

-Vnd with the spote of chaunge inf ectes the mynd ;V 

Where of my deer hath tasted to my payne. 

My service thus is growne into disdayne. 



6 

A Lovers Vow 

Set we wheras the sonne dothe perche the grene, ;, 

Or whear his beames may not dissolue the ise, 

In temprat heat, wheare he is felt and sene ; 

With prowde people, in presence sad and wyse; 

Set me in base, or yet in highe degree; V ^ 

In the long night, or in the shortyst day ; ' 

In clere weather, or whear mysts thickest be ; j 

In lofte yowthe, or when my heares be grey ; 

Set me in earthe, in heauen, or yet in hell ; 

In hill, in dale, or in the f owming floode ; 10 

Thrawle, or at large, aliue whersoo I dwell ; 

Sike, or in healthe ; in yll fame, or in good; 

Yours will I be, and with that onely thought 

Comfort my self when that my hape is nowght. 



'.;■_/ 



7 

The FRAn,TY of Beauty 

Brittle beautie, that nature made so fraile, 

Wherof the gift is small, and short the season, 

Flowring to-day, to morowe apt to faile, 

Tickell treasure abhorred of reason, 

Daungerous to dele with, vaine, of none auaile, 5 

Costly in keping, past not worthe two peason, 

Slipper in sliding as is an eles taile, 

Harde to attaine, once gotten not geason, 

lewel of ieopardie that perill doth assaile. 

False and vntrue, enticed oft to treason, 10 

Enmy to youth : that most may I bewaile. 

Ah, bitter swete ! infecting as the poyson. 

Thou f arest as f rute that with the frost is taken : 

To-day redy ripe, to morov/e all to shaken. 



48 Thc Poems of Surrey 



A Plea for Constancy 

The golden gift that nature did thee geue, 

To fasten frendes and fede them at thy wyll 

With fournie and fauour, taught me to beleue 

How thou art made to shew her greatest skill, 

Whose hidden vertues are not so vnknowen 5 

But liuely domes might gather at the first : 

Where beautye so her perfect seede hath sowen, 

Of other graces folow nedes there must. 

Now certesse, ladie, sins all this is true, 

That from aboue thy gyfts are thus elect, 10 

Do not deface them than with fansies newe, 

Nor chaunge of mindes let not thy minde infect. 

But mercy him thy frende that doth thee serue, 

Who seekes alway thine honour to preserue. 

9 
In Absentia 

The fansy which that I haue serued long, 

That hath alway bene enmy to myne ease, 

Seemed of late to rue vpon my wrong 

And bad me flye the cause of my misease. 

And I forthwith dyd prease out of the throng, 5 

That thought by flight my painfull hart to please 

Som other way, tyll I saw faith more strong. 

And to my self I sayd: "Alas! those dayes 

In vayn were spent, to runne the race so long." 

And with that thought I met my guyde, that playn 10 

Out of the way wherin I wandred wrong 

Brought me amiddes the hylles in base Bullayn ; 

Where I am now, as restlesse to remayn, 

Against my will, full pleased with my payn. 

10 
The Twofoed Power of Love 

Yf he that erst the fourme so livelye drewe 

Of Venus faas, tryvmpht in paynteres arte, 

Thy father then what glorye did ensew, 

By whose pencell a goddesse made thow arte ! 

Touchid with flame, that figure made some rewe, 5 

And with her love surprysed manye a hart; 

There lackt yet that should cure their hoot desyer: 

Thow canst enflame and quenche the kyndled fyre. 



Love Forms 49 

11 

A PivEA FOR Mercy 

The Sonne hath twyse brought forthe the tender grene, 

And cladd the yerthe in hvelye lustynes ; 

Ones have the wyndes the trees dispoyled clene, 

And now agayne begynnes their cruelnes ; 

Sins I have hidd vnder my brest the harme 5 

That never shall recover helthfulnes. 

The wynters hurt recovers with the warme ; 

The perched grene restored is with shade ; 

What warmth, alas ! may sarve for to disarme 

The f roosyn hart, that my inflame hath made ? 10 

What colde agayne is hable to restore 

My f reshe grene yeres, that wither thus & f aade ? 

Alas ! I see nothinge to hurt so sore 

But tyme somtyme reduceth a retourne ; 

Yet tyme my harme increseth more & more, 15 

And semes to have my cure allwayes in skome. 

Straunge kynd of death, in lief that I doo trye: 

At hand to melt, farr of in flame to bourne, 

And like as time list to my cure aply ; 

So doth eche place my comfort cleane refuse. 20 

Eche thing alive that sees the heaven with eye. 

With cloke of night maye cover and excuse 

Him self from travaile of the dayes vnrest. 

Save I, alas ! against all others vse. 

That then sturre vpp the torment of my brest, 25 

To curse eche starr as cawser of my faat. 

And when the sonne hath eke the darke represt 

And brought the dale, yet doth nothing abaat 

The travaile of my endles smart & payne ; 

Ffor then, as one that hath the light in haat, ;30 

I wishe for night, more covertlye to playne. 

And me withdrawe from everie haunted place, 

Lest in my chere my chaunce should pere to playne; 

And with my mynd I measure, paas by paas, 

To seke that place where I my self hadd lost, 35 

That daye that I was tangled in that laase. 

In seming slacke that knytteth ever most. 

But never yet the trayvaile of my thought 

Of better state could catche a cawse to bost. 

For yf I fynde, somtyme that I have sought, 40 

Those starres by whome I trusted of the port. 

My sayles do fall, and I advaunce right nought ; 



50 The Poems or Surrey 

As anchord fast, my sprites do all resort 

To stand atgaas, and sinke in more & more: 

The deadlye harme which she dooth take in sport. 45 

Loo ! yf I seke, how I do fynd my sore ! 

And yf I flye, T carrey with me still 

The venymd shaft which dothe his force restore 

By hast of flight. And I maye pla3^ne my fill 

Vnto my self, oneles this carefull song 50 

Prynt in your hert some percell of my will ; 

For I, alas ! in sylence all to long, 

Of myne old hurt yet fele the wound but grene. 

Rue on me lief, or elles your crewell wrong 

Shall well appeare, and by my deth be sene. 55 



12 

A Game of Chess 

Although I had a check, 

To geue the mate is hard, 

For I haue found a neck 

To kepe my men in gard. 

And you that hardy ar 5 

To geue so great assay 

Vnto a man of warre — 

To driue his men away — , 

I rede you take good hede 

And marke this foolish verse, 10 

For I will so prouide 

That I will haue your ferse. 

And when your ferse is had 

And alt your warre is done. 

Then shall your selfe be glad 15 

To ende that you begon. 

For yf by chance I winne 

Your person in the feeld, 

To late then come you in 

Your selfe to me to yeld. 20 

For I will vse my power, 

As captain full of might, 

And such I will deuour 

As vse to shew me spight. 



Love Poems 51 

And for because you gaue 25 

Me checke in such degre, 

This vantage loe I haue ; 

Now checke, and garde to the. 

Defend it, if thou may; 

Stand stiffe in thine estate ; 30 

For sure I will assay. 

If I can giue the mate. 



13 

A GOODI^Y Ens AMPLE 

When ragyng loue, with extreme payne, 

Most cruelly distrains my hart ; 

When that my teares, as floudes of rayne, 

Beare witnes of my wofull smart ; 

When sighes haue wasted so my breath 5 

That I lye at the poynte of death ; 

I call to minde the nauye greate 

That the Greekes brought to Troye towne, 

And how the boysteous windes did beate 

Their shyps, and rente their sayles adowne, 10 

Till Agamemnons daughters blood 

Appeasde the goddes that them withstode. 

And how that, in those ten years warre, 

Full many a bloudye dede was done; 

And many a lord, that came full farre, 15 

There caught his bane, alas ! to sone ; 

And many a good knight ouerronne; 

Before the Grekes had Helene wonne. 

Then thinke I thus : sithe suche repayre. 

So longe time warre of valiant men, 20 

Was all to winne a ladye fayre. 

Shall I not learne to suffer then, 

And thinke my life well spent, to be 

Seruyng a worthier wight than she? 

Therefore I neuer will repent, 2b 

But paynes, contented, stil endure : 

For like as when, rough winter spent. 

The pleasant spring straight draweth in vre, 

So after ragyng stormes of care. 

Joyful at length may be my fare. 30 



52 The Poems of Surrey 

14 

The Trammels oe Love 



As oft as I behold and see 
The soveraigne bewtie that me bound, 
The ner my comfort is to me, 
Alas ! the f ressher is my wound. 

As flame dothe quenche by rage of fier, 5 

And roounyng streames consumes by raine, 
So doth the sight that I desire 
Apeace my grief and deadly payne. 

Like as the flee that seethe the flame 

And thinkes to plaie her in the fier, 10 

That fownd her woe, and sowght her game, 

Whose grief did growe by her desire. 

When first I saw theise christall streames 

Whose bewtie made this mortall wound, 

I litle thought with in these beames 15 

So sweete a venvme to have found. 

Wherein is hid the crewell bytt 

Whose sharpe repulse none can resist, 

And eake the spoore that straynith eche wytt 

To roon the race against his list. 20 

But wilful will did prick me forth ; 
Blynd Cupide dyd me whipp & guyde ; 
Force made me take my grief in worthe ; 
My fruytles hope my harme did hide. 

As cruell wanes full oft be found 25 

Against the rockes to rore and cry, 
So doth my hart full oft rebound 
Ageinst my brest full bitterly. 

I fall and see my none decaye, 

As he that beares flame in his brest 30 

Fforgetes, for payne, to cast awaye 

The thing that breadythe his vnrest. 

And as the spyder drawes her lyne. 

With labour lost I frame my sewt ; 

The fault is hers, the losse ys myne. 35 

Of yll sown seed such ys the frev»'te. 



Love Poems 53 

15 

A L^eSSON IN lyOVE 

When youthe had ledd me half the race 
That Cupides scourge did make me rune, 
I loked backe to mete the place 
Ffrom whence my werye course begune. 

And then I sawe how my desyre, 5 

By ill gydyng, had let my waye ; 
Whose eyes, to greedye of their hire. 
Had lost me manye a noble praye. 

Ffor when in sighes I spent the daye, 

And could not clooke my grief by game, 10 

Their boyling smoke did still bewraye 

The fervent rage of hidden flame. 

And when salt teares did bayne my brest. 

Where love his pleasaunt traynes had sowne, 

The brewt therof my frewt opprest, 15 

Or that the bloomes were sprunge & blowne. 

And where myne eyes did still pursewe 

The flying chace that was their quest. 

Their gredye lookes did oft renewe 

The hydden wounde within my brest. 20 

When everye looke these cheekes might stayne. 
From dedlye pale to flaming redd, 
By owtward signes apperyd playne 
The woo wherwith my hart was fedd. 

But all to late love learneth me 25 

To paynt all kynd of coloures newe, 

To blynde their eyes that elles should see 

My sparkled chekes with Cupydes hev/e. 

And now the covert brest I clayme 

That worshipps Cupyd secretlye, 3C 

And nourysheth hys sacred flame 

Ffrom whence no biasing sparckes do flye. 



54 Thf, Pop;ms of Surrey 

16 

Rueful Associations 

O lothsome place ! where I 
Haue sene and herd my dere, 
When in my hert her eye 
Hath made her thought appere, 
By ghmsing with such grace 
As fortune it ne would 
That lasten any space 
Betwene vs lenger should. 



As fortune did auance 

To further my desire, 10 

Euen so hath fortunes chance 

Throwen all ammiddes the myre; 

And that I haue deserued 

With true and faithful hart, 

Is to his handes reserued 15 

That neuer felt the smart. 

But happy is that man 

That scaped hath the griefe 

That loue well teche him can. 

By wanting his reliefe. 20 

A scourge to quiet mindes 

It is, who taketh hede, 

A comon plage that bindes, 

A trauell without mede. 

This gift it hath also, 25 

Who so enioies it most 

A thousand troubles grow 

To vexe his weried ghost. 

And last it may not long — 

The truest thing of all—, 30 

And sure the greatest wrong 

That is within this thrall. 

But sins thou, desert place. 

Canst giue me no accompt 

Of my desired grace 35 

That I to haue was wont, 

Farewel ! thou hast me tought 

To thinke me not the furst 

That loue hath set aloft 

And casten in the dust. 40 



Love Poems 55 

17 
An Unchanging Lover 

Though I regarded not 

The promise made to me, 

Or passed not to spot 

My faith and honeste, 

Yet were my fancie strange 5 

And wilfull will to wite, 

If I sought now to change 

A falkon for a kite. 

All men might well dispraise 

My wit and enterprise, 10 

If I estemed a pese 

Aboue a perle in price, 

Or iudged the oule in sight 

The sparehauke to excell, 

Which flieth but in the night, 15 

As all men know right well. 

Or, if I sought to saile 

Into the brittle port 

Where anker hold doth faile, 

To such as doe resort, 20 

And leaue the hauen sure 

Where blowes no blustring winde. 

Nor lickelnesse in vre. 

So far forth as I finde. 

No, thinke me not so light 25 

Nor of so chorlish kinde, 

Though it lay in my might 

My bondage to vnbinde, 

That I would leue the hinde 

To hunt the ganders fo. . 30 

No, no ! I haue no minde 

To make exchanges so, 

Nor yet to change at all. 

For thinke it may not be 

That I should seke to fall 35 

From my felicitie, 

Desyrous for to win, 

And loth for to forgo, 

Or new change to begin. 

How may all this be so? 40 



56 The Poems of Surrey 



The fire it can not freze, 

For it is not his kinde. 

Nor true loue cannot lese 

The Constance of the minde; 

Yet, as sone shall the fire 45 

Want heat to blaze and burn, 

As I in such desire 

Haue once a thought to tume. 



18 

A Mistress Nonpareie 

Geue place, ye louers, here before 

That spent your bostes and bragges in vaine; 

My ladies beawtie passeth more 

The best of yours, I dare well sayen, 

Than doth the sonne, the candle light, 5 

Or brightest day, the darkest night. 

And thereto hath a trothe as iust 

As had Penelope the fayre. 

For what she saith, ye may it trust 

As it by writing sealed were, 10 

And vertues hath she many moe 

Than I with pen haue skill to showe. 

I could rehearse, if that I wolde. 

The whole effect of Natures plaint 

When she had lost the perfit mold, 15 

The like to whom she could not paint ; 

With wringyng handes howe she dyd cry, 

And what she said, I know it, I. 

I knowe she swore with ragyng mynd. 

Her kingdom onely set apart, 20 

There was no losse, by loue of kind, 

That could haue gone so nere her hart. 

And this was chiefly all her payne. 

She coulde not make the lyke agayne. 

Sith Nature thus gaue her the prayse 25 

To be the chiefest worke she wrought, 

In faith, me thinke some better waies 

On your behalf e might well be sought. 

Then to compare, as ye haue done, 

To matche the candle with the sonne. 30 



Love Poems 57 

19 

From a Loyal Lover Overseas 

Syns fortunes wrath enuieth the v/elth 

Wherein I raygned, by the sight 

Of that, that fed mine eyes by stelth 

With sower, swete, dreade, and deHght, 

Let not my griefe moue you to mone, 5 

For I will wepe and wayle alone. 

Spite draue me into Borias raigne. 

Where hory frostes the f rutes do bite, 

When hilles were spred and euery playne 

With stormy winters mantle white ; 10 

And yet, my deare, such was my heate. 

When others frese then did I swete. 

And now, though on the sunne I driue, 

Whose feruent flame all thinges decaies. 

His beames in brightnesse may not striue 15 

With light of your swete golden rayes. 

Nor from my brest this heate remoue 

The f rosen thoughtes grauen by loue. 

Ne may the wanes of the salt floode 

Quenche that your beauty set on fire, 20 

For though mine eyes forbere the fode 

That did releue the hot desire. 

Such as I was, such will I be, — 

Your owne. What would ye more of me ! 



20 

A Modern Ueysses 

I that Vlysses yeres haue spent 

To seeke Penelope, 

Finde well what folly I haue ment 

To seke that was not so, 

Sinse Troylous case hath caused me 

From Cressed for to go. 



58 The Poems of Surrey 



And to bewaile Vlysses truth 

In seas and stormy skies 

Of wanton will and raging youth, 

Wherewith I have tossed sore 10 

From Cillas seas to Carribes dives 

Vpon the drowning shore. 

Where I sought hauen, there found I hap, 

From daunger vnto death, 

Much like the mouse that treades the trap 15 

In hope to finde her foode. 

And bites the bread that stops her breath ; 

So in like case I stoode. 

Till now repentance hasteth him 

To further me so fast 20 

That where I sanke, there now I swim, 

And haue both streame and winde, 

And lucke as good, if it may last. 

As any man may finde. 

That where I perished, safe I passe, 25 

And find no perill there, 

But stedy stone, no ground of glasse. 

Now am I sure to saue, 

And not to flete from feare to feare, 

Such anker hold I haue. 30 



21 
A Ladys Lament for Her Lover Overseas 

O happy dames, that may embrace 

The frute of your delight, 

Help to bewaile the wofull case 

And eke the heauy plight 

Of me, that wonted to reioyce 5 

The fortune of my pleasant choyce. 

Good ladies, help to fill my moorning voyce. 

In ship, freight with rememberance 

Of thoughts and pleasures past, 

He sailes that hath in gouernance 10 

My life, while it wil last; 



Love Poems 59 

With scalding sighes, for lack of gale, 
Furdering his hope, that is his sail. 
Toward me, the swete port of his auail. 

Alas! how oft in dreames I se 15 

Those eyes, that were my food. 

Which somtime so delited me 

That yet they do me good ; 

Wherwith I wake with his returne, 

Whose absent flame did make me burne. 20 

But when I finde the lacke, Lord how I mourne ! 

When other louers, in armes acrosse. 

Reioyce their chiefe delight. 

Drowned in tears, to mourne my losse, 

I stand the bitter night 25 

In my window, where I may see 

Before the windes how the cloudes flee. 

Lo, what a mariner loue hath made me ! 

And in grene waues, when the salt flood 

Doth rise by rage of winde, 30 

A thousand fansies in that mood 

Assayle my restlesse mind. 

Alas ! now drencheth my swete f o, 

That with the spoyle of my hart did go. 

And left me ; but, alas, why did he so ! 35 

And when the seas waxe calme againe. 

To chase fro me annoye, 

My doubtfull hope doth cause me plaine; 

So dreade cuts of my ioye. 

Thus is my wealth mingled with wo, 40 

And of ech thought a dout doth growe : 

Now he comes ; will he come ? alas, no,no ! 



22 

A Sophisticated Lover 

Suche waywarde wais hath love, that moste parte in discorde 
Our willes do stand, wherby our hartes but seldom dooth accorde. 

Disceyte is his delight, and to begyle and mocke 
The symple hertes which he doth stryke with froward, dyvers stroke. 

He cawseth hertes to rage with golden burninge darte. 
And doth alaye with ledden cold agayne the tothers harte. 



60 The Poems of Surrey 

Hot gleams of burning fyre, & easye sparkes of flame, 
In balaunce of vnegall weight he pondereth by ame. 

Ffrom easye fourde, where I might wade & passe full well, 
He me withdrawes, and doth me drive into the darke, diep well ; 10 

And me withholdes where I am cald and offerd place ; 
And wooll that still my mortall foo I do beseche of grace. 

He lettes me to pursue a conquest well nere woon, 
To follow where my paynes wer spilt or that my sute begune. 

Lo ! by these rules I know how sone a hart can turne 15 

From warr to peace, from trewce to stryf , and so again returne. 

I knowe how to convert my will in others lust ; 
Of litle stuff vnto my self to weyve a webb of trust ; 

And how to hide my harme with soft dissembled chere, 
When in my face the paynted thoughtes wolde owtwardlye appere. 20 

I know how that the blood forsakes the faas for dredd, 
And how by shame it staynes agayne the cheke with flaming redd. 

I knowe vnder the grene, the serpent how he lurckes ; 
The hamer of the restles forge, I know eke how yt workes. 

I know, and can be roote, the tale that I wold tell, 25 

But ofte the wordes come forth a wrye of hym that loveth well. 

I know in heat and cold the lover how he shakes, 
In singinge how he can complayne, in sleaping how he wakes, 

To languishe without ache, sickles for to consume, 
A thousand thinges for to devyse resolving all hys fume. 30 

And thoughe he lyke to see his ladies face full sore, 
Suche pleasure as delightes his eye doth not his health restore. 

I know to seke the tracke of my desyred foo, 
And feare to f ynd that I do seke ; but chefelye this I know. 

That lovers must transforme into the thing beloved, 35 

And live — alas, who colde beleve ! — with spryte from lief removed. 

I know in hartye sighes and lawghters of the splene 
At ones to chaunge my state, my will, & eke my colour clene. 

I know how to disceyve myself withouten helpp ; 
And how the lyon chastysed is by beating of the whelpp. 40 

In standing nere my fyer, I know how that I f rese ; 
Ff arr of, to burn ; in both to wast, & so my lief to lese. 

I know how love doth rage vppon the yeldon mynd. 
How small a nett may take & mashe a harte of gentle kynd ; 

Which seldome tasted swete, to seasoned heaps of gall, 45 

Revyved with a glyns of grace olde sorowes to let fall. 

The hidden traynes I know, & secret snares of love ; 
How sone a loke may prynt a thought that never will remoue. 

That slipper state I know, those sodayne tournes from welthe, 
That doutfull hope, that certayne woo, & sure dispaire of helthe. 50 



Love Poems 61 

23 
Strive Not With Love 

When sommer toke in hand the winter to assail 
With force of might and vertue gret, his stormy blasts to quail, 

And when he clothed faire the earth about with grene, 
And euery tree new garmented, that pleasure was to sene, 

Mine hart gan new reuiue, and changed blood dyd stur 5 

Me to withdraw my winter woe, that kept within the dore. 

Abrode, quod my desire, assay to set thy fote. 
Where thou shalt f inde the sauour sweete, for sprong is euery rote ; 

And to thy health, if thou were sick in any case. 
Nothing more good than in the spring the aire to fele a space. 10 

There shalt thou here and se all kindes of birdes ywrought. 
Well tune their voice with warble smal, as nature hath them tought. 

Thus pricked me my lust the sluggish house to leaue, 
And for my health I thought it best suche counsail to receaue. 

So on a morow furth, vnwist of any wight, 15 

I went to proue how well it would my heauy burden light. 

And when I felt the aire so pleasant round about, 
Lorde, to my self how glad I was that I had gotten out. 

There might I se how Ver had euery blossom hent. 
And eke the new betrothed birdes ycoupled how they went. 20 

And in their songes me thought they thanked nature much 
That by her lycence all that yere to loue — their happe was such — 

Right as they could deuise to chose them feres throughout ; 
With much reioysing to their Lord thus flew they all about. 

Which when I gan resolue, and in my head conceaue, 25 

What pleasant life, what heapes of ioy, these little birdes receue. 

And sawe in what estate I, wery man, was brought 
By want of that they had at will, and I reiect at nought, 

Lorde, how I gan in wrath vnwisely me demeane. 
I curssed loue, and him defied ; I thought to turne the streame. 30 

But whan I well behelde he had me vnder awe, 
I asked mercie for my fault that so transgrest his law. 

"Thou blinded god," quoth I, "forgeue me this offense; 
Vnwillingly I went about to malice thy pretense." 

Wherewith he gaue a beck, and thus me thought he swore: 35 

"Thy sorow ought suffice to purge thy faulte, if it were more." 

The vertue of which sounde mine hart did so reuiue 
That I, me thought, was made as hole as any man aliue. 

But here ye may perceiue mine errour, all and some. 
For that I thought that so it was, yet was it still vndone ; 40 

And all that was no more but mine empressed mynde. 
That fayne woulde haue some good relese of Cupide wel assinde. 



62 The Poems of Surrey 

I turned home forthwith, and might perceiue it well, 
That he agreued was right sore with me for my rebell. 

My harmes haue euer since increased more and more, 45 

And I remaine, without his help, vndone for euer more. 

A miror let me be vnto ye louers all : 
Striue not with loue, for if ye do, it will ye thus befall. 



24 
A Stricken Shepherd 

In winters iust returne, when Boreas gan his raigne. 
And euery tree vnclothed fast, as nature taught them plaine. 

In misty morning darke, as sheepe are then in holde, 
1 hyed me fast, it sat me on, my sheepe for to vnfolde. 

And as it is a thing that louers haue by fittes, 5 

Vnder a palm I heard one crye as he had lost hys wittes. 

Whose voice did ring so shrill, in vttering of his plaint, 
That I amazed was to hear how loue could hym attaint. 

"Ah wretched man," quod he, "come death, and ridde thys wo ; 
A just reward, a happy end,, if it may chaunce thee so. 10 

Thy pleasures past haue wrought thy \\ o, withoue redresse ; 
If thou hadst neuer felt no ioy, thy smart had bene the lesse." 

And retchlesse of his life, he gan both sighe and grone; 
A rufull thing me thought it was to hear him make such mone. 

"Thou cvirsed pen," sayd he, "wo worth the bird thee bare ; 15 

The man, the knife, and all that made thee, wo be to their share. 

Wo worth the time, and place, where I so could endite, 
And wo be it yet once agayne, the pen that so can write. 

Vnhappy hand, it had ben happy time for me 
If, when to write thou learned first, vnioynted hadst thou be." 20 

Thus cursed he himself, and euery other wight, 
Saue her alone whom loue him bound to serue both day and night. 

Which when I heard, and saw, how he himselfe fordid. 
Against the ground, with bloudy strokes, himself euen there to rid. 

Had ben my heart of flint, it must haue melted tho, 25 

For in my life I neuer saw a man so full of wo. 

With teares, for his redresse, I rashly to him ran 
And in my arms I caught him fast, and thus I spake hym than : 

"What wofull wight art thou, that in such heauy case 
Tormentes thy self e with such despite, here in this desert place ?" 30 

Wherewith, as all agast, fulfild wyth ire and dred. 
He cast on me a staring loke, with coloitr pale and ded. 



LovK Poems 63 

"Nay, what art thou," quod he, "that in this heauy phght 
Doest finde me here, most wofull wretch, that hfe hath in despight?" 

"I am," quoth I, "biit pore, and simple in degre ; 35 

A shepardes charge I haue in hand, vnworthy though I be." 

With that he gaue a sighe, as though the skye should fall, 
And lowd, alas! he shryked oft, and "Shepard," gan he call, 

"Come, hie the fast at ones, and print it in thy hart ; 
So thou shalt know, and I shall tell the, giltlesse how I smart." 40 

His backe against the tree, sore febled all with faint. 
With weary sprite hee stretched him vp, and thus hee told his plaint. 

"Ones in my hart," quoth he, "it chanced me to loue 
Such one, in whom hath nature wrought her cunning for to proue. 

And sure I can not say, but many yeres were spent 45 

With such good will so recompenst, as both we were content. 

Whereto then I me bound, and she likewise also. 
The Sonne should runne his course awry, ere we this faith forgo. 

Who ioied then, but I ? who had this worldes blisse ? 
Who might compare a life to mine, that neuer thought on this? 50 

But dwelling in thys truth, amid my greatest ioy. 
Is me befallen a greater loss than Priam had of Troy: 

She is reuersed clene, and beareth me in hand, 
That my desertes haue giuen her cause to break thys faithful band. 

And for my iust excuse auaileth no defense. 55 

Now knowest thou all ; I can no more. But, shepard, hye the hense, 

And giue him leaue to die that may no lenger hue. 
Whose record, lo, I claime to haue, my death, 1 doe forgiue. 

And eke, when I am gone, be bolde to speake it plain : 
Thou hast seen dye the truest man that euer loue did pain." 60 

Wherewith he turned him round, and gasping oft for breath, 
Into his armes a tree he raught, and sayd, "Welcome my death: 

Welcome a thousand fold, now dearer vnto me 
Than should, without her loue to hue, an emperour to be." 

Thus, in this wofull state, he yelded vp the ghost, 65 

And little knoweth his lady, what a louer she hath lost. 

Whose death when I beheld, no maruail was it, right 
For pitie though my heart did blede, to see so piteous sight. 

My blood from heot to colde oft changed wonders sore; 
A thousand troubles there I found I neuer knew before. 70 

Twene dread and dolour, so my sprites were brought in feare. 
That long it was ere I could call to minde what I did there. 

But, as eche thing hath end, so had these paynes of mine : 
The furies past, and I my wits restored by length of time. 

Then, as I could deuise, to seke I thought it best 75 

Where I might finde some worthy place for such a corse to rest. 



64 The Poems of Surrey 

And in my mind it came, from thence not farre away, 
Where Chreseids loiie, king Priams sonne, ye worthy Troikis lay. 

By him I made his tomb, in token he was trew. 
And, as to him belonged well, I couered it with bleew. 80 

Whose soule, by angles power, departed not so sone 
But to the heauens, lo, it fled, for to receiue his dome. 



25 
A Friendey Warning 

To dearly had I bought my grene and youth full yeres. 
If in mine age I could not finde when craft for loue apperes ; 

And seldom though I come in court among the rest. 
Yet can I iudge in colours dim as depe as can the best. 

Where grefe tormentes the man that suffreth secret smart, 5 

To breke it forth vnto som frend it easeth well the hart. 

So standes it now with me for my beloued frend. 
This case is thine for whom I fele such torment of my minde. 

And for thy sake I burne so in my secret brest 
That till thou know my hole disseyse my hart can haue no rest. 10 

I se how thine abu.*^? hath wrested so thy wittes 
That all it yeldes to thy desire, and folowes the by fittes. 

Where thou hast loued so long with hart and all thy power, 
I se thee fed with fayned wordes, thy freedom to deuour. 

I know — though she say nay, and would it well withstand— 15 

When in her grace thou held the most, she bare the but in hand. 

I see her pleasant chere in chiefest of thy suite ; 
Whan thou art gone, I se him come that gathers vp the f ruite. 

And eke in thy respect I se the base degre 
Of him to whom she gaue the hart that promised was to the. 20 

I se — what would you more — stode neuer man so sure 
On womans word, but wisedome would mistrust it to endure. 



26 

The Fickleness oe Woman 

Wrapt in my carelesse cloke, as I walke to and fro, 
I se how loue can shew what force there reigneth in his bow • 

And how he shoteth eke, a hardy hart to wound ; 
And where he glanceth by agayne, that litle hurt is found. 



Love; Poeirs 65 

For seldom is it sene he woundeth hartes alike : 5 

The tone may rage, when tothers loue is often f arre to seke. 

^Vll this I se, with more, and wonder thinketh me 
Howe he can strike the one so sore, and leaue the other fre. 

I se that wounded wight, that suffreth all this wrong, 
How he is fed with yeas and nayes, and liueth all to long. 10 

In silence though I kepe such secretes to my self, 
Yet do I se how she sometime doth yeld a loke by stelth, 

As though it seemed, 5^wys, I will not lose the so, — 
When in her hart so swete a thought did neuer truely grow. 

Then say I thus: alas, that man is farre from blisse 15 

That doth receiue for his relief none other gayn but this. 

And she, that fedes him so, — I fele, and finde it plain — 
Is but to glory in her power, that ouer such can reign. 

Nor are such graces spent but when she thinkes that he, 
A weried man, is fully bent such fansies to let flie ; 20 

Then to retain him stil she wrasteth new her grace, 
And smileth, lo, as though she would forthwith the man embrace. 

But when the proofe is made to try such lokes withall. 
He findeth then the place all voyde, and fraighted full of gall. 

Lord, what abuse is this ! who can such women praise, 2^ 

That for their glory do deuise to vse such crafty wayes ! 

I, that among the rest do sit, and mark the row, 
Fynde that in her is greater craft tlien is in twenty mo. 

Whose tender yeres, alas ! with w'yles so well are spedde, 
What will she do when hory heares are pov/dred in her hedde ! 30 



27 

Modern Saws and Ancient Instance 

Gyrtt in my glitlesse gowne, as I sytt heare and sowe, 
I see that thinges are not in dead as to the owtward showe. 

And who so lyst to.looke and note thinges somewhat neare, 
Shal fynde, wheare playnnesse seemes to haunte, nothing but craft appeare. 

For with indifferent eyes my self can well discearne 
How som, to guyd a shyppe in stormes, stycke not to take the stearne ; 

Whose skill and conninge tryed in calme to steare a bardge. 
They wolde sone shaw, yow shold sone see, it weare to great a chardge. 

And some I see agayne sytt still and say but small 
That can do ten tymes more than they that say they can do all. 

Whose go'dlye gyftes are suche, the more they vnderstand. 
The more thev seeke to learne and know and take lesse chardge in hand. 



10 



-3 



66 The Poems of Surrey 

And, to declare more playne, the tyme flyttes not so fast 
But I can beare right well in mynd the song now sung and past. 

The auctour whearof cam, wrapt in a craftye cloke, 15 

In will to force a flamyng fyre wheare he could rayse no smoke. 

If powre and will had mett, as it appeareth playne. 
The truth nor right had tane no place, their vertues had bene vayne. 

So that you may perceave and I may saflye see. 
The innocent that giltlesse is, condempned sholde have be. 20 

Muche lyke untruth to this the story doth declare, 
Wheare the elders layd to Susans chardge meete matter to compare. 

They did her both accuse and eke condempne her to, 
And yet no reason, right, nor truthe, did lead them so to do. 

And she thus judged to dye, toward her death went for the 25 

Ffraughted with faith, a pacient pace, taking her wrong in worthe. 

But he, that dothe defend all those that in hym trust, 
Did raise a childe for her defence, to shyeld her from the unjust. 

And Danyell chosen was then of this wrong to weete 
How, in what place, and eke with whome, she did this cryme commytt. 30 

He cawsed the elders part the one from the others sight. 
And did examyne one by one and chardged them bothe say right. 

Vndra molberye trye it was, fyrst sayd the one ; 
The next namede a pomegranate trye ; whereby the truth was knowne. 

Than Susan was discharged and they condempned to dye, 35 

As right requeares and they deserve that framede so fowll a lye. 

And he, that her preserved and lett them of their lust. 
Hath me defendyd hetherto, and will do still I trust. 



28 

Caem After Storm 

If care do cause men cry, why do not I complaine? 
If eche man do bewaile his wo, why shew I not my paine? 

Since that amongest them all, I dare well say, is none 
So farre from weale, so full of wo, or hath more cause to mone. 

For all thynges hauing life sometime haue quiet rest, 5 

The bering asse, the drawing oxe, and euer}^ other beast. 

The peasant and the post, that serue at al assayes. 
The shyp boy and the galley slaue, haue time to take their ease, 

Saue I, alas ! whom care of force doth so constraine 
To waile the day and wake the night continually in paine, 10 

From pensiuenes to plaint, from plaint to bitter teares. 
From teares to painfull plaint againe; and thus my life it wears. 

No thing vnder the sunne that I can here or se. 
But moueth me for to bewaile mv cruell destenie. 



Autobiographical Poems 67 

For wher men do reioyce, since that I can not so, 15 

I take no pleasure in that place, it doubleth but my woe. 

And when I heare the sound of song or instrument, 
Me thinke eche tune there dolefull is and helpes me to lament. 

And if I se some haue their most desired sight, 
Alas ! think I, eche man hath weal saue I, most wofull wight. 20 

Then, as the striken dere withdrawes him selfe alone. 
So do I seke some secrete place where I may make my mone- 

There do my flowing eyes shew forth my melting hart, 
So yat the stremes of those two welles right wel declare my smart. 

And in those cares so colde I force my selfe a heate, 25 

As sick men in their shaking fittes procure them self to sweate; 

With thoughtes that for the time do much appease my paine. 
But yet they cause a ferther fere and brede my woe agayne : 

Me thinke within my thought I se right plaine appere. 
My hartes delight, my sorowes leche, mine earthly goddesse here, 30 

With euery sondry grace that I haue sene her haue ; 
Thus I within my wofull brest her picture paint and graue. 

And in my thought I roll her bewties to and fro, 
Her laughing chere, her louely looke, my hart that perced so ; 

Her strangenes when I sued her seruant for to be; 35 

And what she sayd, and how she smiled, when that she pitied me. 

Then comes a sodaine feare that riueth all my rest 
Lest absence cause forget fulness to sink within her brest. 

For when I thinke how far this earth doth vs deuide, 
Alas ! me semes loue throwes me downe ; I f ele how that I slide. 40 

But then, I thinke againe, why should I thus mistrust 
So swete a wight, so sad and wise, that is so true and iust ; 

For loth she was to loue, and wauering is she not. 
The farther of, the more desirde; thus louers tie their knot. 

So in dispaire and hope plonged am I both vp an doune, 45 

As is the ship with wind and waue when Neptune list to froune. 

But as the watry showers delaye the raging winde. 
So doth good hope clene put away dispayre out of my minde, 

And biddes me for to serue and suffer pacientlie, 
For what, wot I, the after weale that fortune willes to me. 50 

For those that care do knowe and tasted haue of trouble, 
When passed is their woful paine, eche' ioy shall seme them double; 

And bitter sendes she now, to make me tast the better 
The plesant swete, when that it comes, to make it seme the sweter. 

And so determine I to serue vntill my brethe; 55 

Ye, rather dye a thousand times then once to false my feithe. 

And if my feble corps through weight of wofull smart 
Do fayle or faint, my will it is that still she kepe my hart. 

And when thys carcas here to earth shalbe refarde, 
I do bequeth my weried ghost to serue her afterwarde. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL P0E:MS 

29 . 
The Lady Geraldine 

Ffrom Tuscan cam my ladies worthi race ; 

Faire Fflorence was sometime her atmcient seate ; 

The westerne ile, whose pleasaunt showre doth face 

Wylde Chambares cHffes, did geve her lyvely heate ; 

Ffostred she was with mylke of Irishe brest ; 5 

Her syer an erle, hir dame of princes bloud ; 

From tender yeres in Britaine she doth rest, 

With a kinges child, where she tastes gostly foode ; 

Honsdon did furst present her to myn eyen ; 

Bryght ys her hew, and Geraldine shee highte ; 10 

Hampton me tawght to wishe her furst for myne ; 

And Windesor, alas ! doth chace me from her sight. 

Bewty of kind, her vertues from a bove, 

Happy ys he that may obtaine her love. 



30 
Windsor Memories 

When Windesor walles sustained my wearied arme, 

My hand, my chyn, to ease my restles hedd, 

Ech pleasaunt plot revested green with warm. 

The blossomed bowes, with lustie veare yspred. 

The flowred meades, the weddyd birdes so late, 5 

Myne eyes discouered. Than did to mynd resort 

The ioily woes, the hateles shorte debate, 

The rakhell life, that longes to loves disporte. 

Wherwith, alas ! myne hevy charge of care, 

Heapt in my brest, brake forth against my will ; 10 

And smoky sighes, that over cast the ayer ; 

My vapored eyes such drery teares distill, 

The tender spring to quicken wher thei fall ; 

And I have bent to throwe me downe with all. 

(68) 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAI, PoEMS 69 

31 
The Poets Lament for His Lost Boyhood 

So crewell prison ! howe could betyde, alas ! 
As prowde Wyndsour, where 1, in lust & ioye, 
With a Kinges soon my childishe yeres did passe, 
In greater feast then Priams sonnes of Troye ; 

Where eche swete place retournes a tast full sowre. 5 

The large grene courtes, where we wer wont to hove, 
With eyes cast upp unto the maydens towre. 
And easye sighes, such as folke drawe in love. 

The statelye sales : the ladyes bright of hewe ; 

The daunces short ; long tales of great delight ; 10 

With wordes and lookes, that tygers could but rewe, 

Where eche of vs did plead the others right. 

The palme playe, vv'here, dispoyled for the game, 

With dased eyes oft we by gleames of love 

Have mist the ball, and got sight of our dame, 15 

To bayte her eyes which kept the leddes above. 

The graveld ground : with sieves tyed on the helme. 

On fomynge horse, with swordes and frendlye hertes, 

With chere, as thoughe the one should overvvhelme, 

Where we have fought & chased oft with dartes. 20 

With sylver dropps the meades yet spredd for rewthe, 
In active games of nymblenes and strengthe 
Where we dyd strayne, tray led by swarmes of youthe, 
Otu- tender lymes, that yet shott vpp in lengthe. 

The secret groves, which oft we made resound 25 

Of pleasaunt playnt & of our ladyes prayes, 
Recording soft, what grace eche one had found, 
What hope of spede, what dred of long delayes. 

The wyld forest, the clothed holte with grene, 

With raynes avald and swift ybrethed horse, 30 

With crye of houndes and merey blastes bitwen. 

Where we did chace the fearfull hart a force. 

The voyd walles eke, that harbourde vs eche night; 
Wherwith, alas ! revive within my brest 

The swete accord, such slepes as yet delight, 35 

The pleasaunt dreames, the quyet bedd of rest. 



70 The Poems of Surrey 

The secret thoughtes imparted with such trust, 

The wanton talke, the dyvers chaung of playe, 

The frendshipp sworne, eche promyse kept so iust, 

Wherwith we past the winter nightes awaye. 40 

And with this thought the blood forsakes my face, 
The teares berayne my chekes of dedlye hewe; 
The which, as sone as sobbing sighes, alas ! 
Vpsupped have, thus I my playnt renewe : 

"O place of blys ! renewer of my woos ! 45 

Geve me accompt wher is my noble fere, 

Whome in thy walles thow didest eche night enclose, 

To other lief, but vnto me most dere." 

Eccho, alas ! that dothe my sorowe rewe, 

Retournes therto a hollowe sound of playnt. 50 

Thus I, alone, where all my fredome grew, 

In pryson pyne with bondage and restraynt ; 

And with remembraunce of the greater greif, 
To bannishe the lesse, I fynde ray chief releif. 



32 
A Satire on London, The Modern Babyeon 

London, hast thow accused me 

Of breche of lawes, the roote of stryfe? 

Within whose brest did boyle to see, 

So fervent hotte, thy dissolute lief. 

That even the hate of synnes, that groo 5 

Within thy wicked walles so rife, 

Ffor to breake forthe did convert soo 

That terrour colde it not represse. 

The which, by wordes, syns prechers knoo 

What hope is left for to redresse, 10 

By vnknowne meanes, it liked me 

My hydden burden to expresse, 

Wherby yt might appere to the 

That secret synn hath secret spight ; 

Ffrom iustice rodd no fault is free; 15 

But that all such as wourke vnright 

In most quyet, are next ill rest. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAI, PoEMS 71 

In secret sylence of the night 

This made me, with a reckles brest, 

To wake thy sluggardes with my bowe; 20 

A fygure of the Lordes behest, 

Whose scourge for synn the Screptures shew. 

That, as the fearfull thonder clapp 

By soddayne flame at hand we knowe, 

Of peoble stones the sowndles rapp, 25 

The dredfuU plage might mak the see 

Of Goddes wrath, that doth the enwrapp; 

That pryde might know, from conscyence free, 

How loftye workes may her defend ; 

And envye fynd, as he hath sought, 30 

How other seke hym to offend ; 

And wrath tast of eche crewell thought 

The iust shapp hyer in the end ; 

And ydell slouthe, that never wrought, 

To heven hys spirite Hft may begyn; 35 

& gredye lucre lyve in drede 

To see what haate ill gott goodes wynn; 

The lechers, ye that lustes do feed, 

Perceve what secrecye is in synne ; 

And gluttons hartes for sorrow blede, 40 

Awaked, when their faulte they fynd. 

In lothsome vyce, eche dronken wight 

To styrr to Godd, this was my mynd. 

Thy wyndowes had don me no spight ; 

But prowd people that drede no fall, 45 

Clothed with falshed and vnright 

Bred in the closures of thy wall, 

But wrested to wrathe in fervent zeale, 

Thow hast to strief, my secret call. 

Endured hartes no warning feale. 50 

Oh shameles hore I is dred then gone 

By suche thy foes, as ment thy weale? 

Oh membre of false Babylon ! 

The shopp of craft ! the denne of ire ! 

Thy dredfull dome drawes fast uppon ; 55 

Thy martyres blood, by swoord & fyre, 

In Heaven & earth for iustice call. 

The Lord shall here their iust desyre ; 

The flame of wrath shall on the fall ; 

With famyne and pest lamentablie 60 

Stricken shalbe thy lecheres all ; 



72 Thk Poems of Surrey 



Thy prowd towers and turretes hye, 

Enmyes to God, beat stone from stone; 

Thyne idoUes burnt, that wrought iniquitie. 

When none thy ruyne shall bemone, 65 

But render vnto the right wise Lord, 

That so hath iudged Babylon, 

Imortall praise with one accord. 



33 
Lady Surreys Lament for Her Absent Lord 

Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exyle, 
Stepp in your foote, come, take a place, and mourne wnth me awhyle ; 

And suche as by their lords do sett but lytle pryce, 
Lett them sitt still, it skills them not what chaunce come on the dyce. 

But you whome love hath bound, by order of desyre 5 

To love your lordes, whose good desertes none other w^old requyre, 

Come you yet once agayne, and sett your foote by myne, 
Whose wofull plight, and sorowes great, no tongue may well defyne. 

My lord and love, alas ! in whome consystes my wealth, 
Hath fortune sent to passe the seas, in haserd of his health. 10 

That I was wontt for to embrace, contentid myndes, 
Ys now amydd the foming floodds, at pleasure of the wyndes. 

Theare God hym well preserve, and safelye me hym send ; 
Without whiche hope, my lyf , alas ! weare shortlye at an ende. 

Whose absence yet, although my hope doth tell me plaine 15 

With short returne he comes anon, yet ceasith not my payne. 

The fearefull dreames I have, oft tymes they greeve me so 
That then I wake, and stand in dowbtt yf they be trew or no. 

Somtyme the roring seas, me seemes, they grow so hye. 
That my sweete lorde in daunger greate, alas ! doth often lye. 20 

Another tyme, the same doth tell me he is comme, 
And [JlsLyng, wheare I shall hym fynd, with T., his lytle sonne. 

So forthe I goe apace, to see that lyfsome sight. 
And with a kysse, me thinckes I say, "Now well come home, my knight ; 

Welcome, my sweete, alas ! the staye of my welfare ; 25 

Thye presence bringeth forthe a truce betwixt me and my care." 

Then lyvelye doth he looke, and saluith me agayne, 
And saith, "My deare, how is it now that you have all this payne?" 

Wheare with the heavie cares, that heapt are in my brest, 
Breake forth, and me dischardgeth cleane of all my great unrest. 30 

Butt when I me awayke and fynde it but a dreame, 
The angwyshe of my former woe beginneth more extreme, 



Autobiographical Poems 73 

And me tourmentith so that vnneth may I fynde 
Some hydden wheare, to steale the gryfe of my unquyet mynd. 

Thus, euerye \vaye, you see with absence how I burne, 35 

And for my wound no cure there is but hope of some retourne, 

Save when I feele, the sower, how sweete is felt the more, 
It doth abate some of my paynes that I abode before ; 

And then unto my self I saye, "When that we two shall meete, 
But lyttle tyme shall seeme this payne, that joye shall be so sweete." 40 

Ye wyndes, I you convart, in chieffest of your rage. 
That you my lord me safelye send, my sorowes to asswage ; 

And that I may not long abyde in suche excesse. 
Do your good will to cure a wight that lyveth in distresse. 



34 
An Irate Host 

Eache beeste can chuse his feere according to his minde, 
And eke to shew a frindlie cheare, lyke to their beastly kynd. 

A lyon saw I theare, as whyte as any snow, 
Whiche seemyd well to leade the race, his porte the same did shew. 

Uppon this gentyll beast to gaze it lyked me, 5 

For still me thought, it seemyd me, of noble blood to be. 

And as he praunced before, still seeking for a make. 
As whoe wolde say, "There is none heare, I trow, will me forsake," 

I might perceave a woolf, as v/hyte as whale his bone, 
A iayrer beast, a fressher hew, beheld I never none, 10 

Save that her lookes wear fearce and froward eke her grace. 
Tov/ard the whiche, this gentle beast gan hym advaunce apace. 

And, w^ith a beck full low, he bowed at her feete 
In humble wyse, as who wold say, "I am to farr unmeete" ; 

But suche a scornfull cheere, wheare with she hym rewarded, 15 

Was never scene, I trow, the lyke, to suche as w^ell deservid. 

Wheare with she startt asyde w^ell neare a foote or twayne. 
And unto hym thus gan she saye, with spight and great disdayne : 

"Lyon," she said, "yf thow hadest knowen my mynde beforne, 
Thow hadst not spentt thie travaile thus, and all thie payne forlorne. 20 

Do waye ! I lett the v/eete, thow shalt not play with me ; 
But raunge aboute : thow maiste seeke oute some meeter feere for the." 

Forthwith he bentt his taile, his eyes begounne to flame'; 
I might perceave his noble hartt moche moved by the same. 

Yet saw I him refrayne, and eke his rage asswage, 25 

And unto her thus gan he say, whan he was past his rage : 



74 The Poems of Surrey 

"Crewell, you do me wronge to sett me thus so light ; 
Without desert, for my good will to shew me such dispight. 

How can you thus entreat a lyon of the race, 
That with his pawes a crowned kinge devoured in the place ? 30 

Whose nature is, to prea uppon no symple foode 
As longe as he may suck the flesshe, and drincke of noble bloode. 

Yf you be faire and fresshe, am I not of your hew? 
And, for my vaunte, I dare well say my blood is not untrew ; 

Ffor you your self dothe know, it is not long agoe, 35 

Sins that, for love, one of the race did end his life in woe 

In towre both strong and highe, for his assured truthe, 
Wheare as in teares he spent his breath, alas ! the more the ruthe ; 

This gentle beast lykewise, who nothinge could remove. 
But willinglye to seeke his death for losse of his true love. 40 

Other ther be whose lyfe, to lynger still in payne, 
Against their will preservid is, that wold have dyed right fayne. 

But well I may perceave that nought it movid you, 
My good entent, my gentle hart, nor yet my kynd so true ; 

But that your will is suche to lure me to the trade, 45 

As others some full many yeares to trace by crafte you made. 

And thus beholde my kynd, how that we differ farr : 
I seke my foes, and you your f rends do threaten still with warr ; 

I f awne wheare I am f edd, you flee that seekes to you ; 
I can devoure no y elding pray, you kill wheare you subdue ; 50 

My kynd, is to desyre the honour of the field, 
And you, with blood to slake your thurst of suche as to you yelde. 

Wherefore I wolde you wist, that for your coy lookes 
I am no man that will be traynd, nor tanglyd bye suche hookes ; 

And thoughe some list to bow, wheare blame full well they might, 55 
. And to suche beastes a currant fawne, that shuld have travaile bright, 

I will observe the law that nature gave to me. 
To conqueare such as will resist, and let the rest go free. 

And as a ffaulcon free, that soreth in the ayre, 
Whiche never fedd on hand or lure, that for no stale doth care, 60 

While that I live and breathe, suche shall my custome be 
In wildnesse of the woods to seeke my prea, wheare pleasith me ; 

Where many one shall rew that never mad offence : 
Thus your refuse agaynst my powre shall bode them no defence. 

In the revendge wherof, I vowe and sweare therto, 65 

A thowsand spoyles I shall commytt I never thought to do ; 

And yf to light on you my happ so good shall be, 
I shall be glad to feede on that that wold have fed on me. 



J 



Autobiographical Poems 75 

And thus, farewell ! unkynd, to wliome I bent to low, 
I would you wist the shipp is safe that bare his saile so low ! 70 

Syns that a lyons hart is for a woolfe no pray. 
With blooddye mowth of symple sheepe go slake your wrath, I say. 

With more dispight and ire than I can now expresse, 
Whiche to my payne though I ref rayne the cause you may well gesse : 

As for becawse my self was awthour of this game, 75 

It bootes me not that, by my wrath, I should disturbb the same. 



35 

Prolog to Psalm 88 

Wher recheles youthe in a vnquiet brest, 
Set on by wrath, revenge, and crueltye, 
After long warr pacyens had opprest. 
And iustice wrought by pryncelye equitie ; 
My Deny, then myne errour, depe imprest, 
Began to worke dispaire of libertye, 
Had not David, the perfyt warriour, tought 
That of my fault thus pardon shold be sought. 



36 
Prolog to Psalm 7Z 

The soudden stormes that heaue me to and froo 

Had welneare pierced faith, my guyding saile. 

For I, that on the noble voyage goo 

To succhor treuthe and falshed to assaile, 

Constrayned am to beare my sayles ful loo 5 

And neuer could attayne some pleasaunt gaile, 

For vnto such the prosperous winds doo bloo 

As ronne from porte to porte to seke availe. 

This bred dispayre, wherof such doubts did groo 

That I gan faint and all my courage faile. 10 

But now, my Blage, myne errour well I see; 

Such goodlye light King David giueth me. 






76 The; Poems of Surrey 

37 
Reflections From the Tower 

The stormes are past, these clovides are ouerblowne, 

And humble chere great rygour hath represt. 

For the defaute is set a paine foreknowne, 

And pacience graft in a determed brest. 

And in the hart where heapes of griefes were grown, 

The swete reuenge hath planted mirth and rest; 

No company so pleasant as myne owne. 

Thraldom at large hath made this prison f re ; -^ 

Danger well past, remembred, workes delight. 

Of lingring doutes such hope is sprong, perdie ! 10 

That nought I finde displeasaunt in my sight 

But when my glasse presented vnto me 

The curelesse wound that bledeth day and night. ; 

To think, alas ! such hap should graunted be 

Vnto a wretch that hath no hart to fight, 15 

To spill that blood that hath so oft bene shed 

For Britannes sake, alas ! and now is ded. 



w 



p- 



MORAL AND DIDACTIC POEMS 

38 
A Tribute to Wyatts PsaIvMS 

The greate Macedon, that out of Persy chased 

Darius, of whose huge powre all Asia range, 

In the riche arke yf Homniers rhymes he placed. 

Who fayned gestes of heathen princes sange; 

What holie grave, what worthye sepulture. 

To Wyates Psalmes should Christians than purchace' 

Where he doth painte the lively fayth and pure. 

The stedfast hope, the sweet returne to grace. 

Of iust David, by perfect penitence ; 

Where rulers may see, in a myrrour clere. 

The bytter f rute of false concupicence : 

How lurye bowght Vryas death full deere. 

In princes hartes Godes scourge yprinted deepe 

Mowght them awake out of their synfull sleepe. 



39 

An Epigram to Radcliffe 

My Ratclif, when thy rechlesse youth offendes, 
Receue thy scourge by others chastisement. 
For such callyng, when it workes none amcndes, 
Then plagues are sent without aduertisemciit. 
Yet Salomon sayd, the wronged shall recure; 
But Wiat said true, the skarre doth aye endure. 



40 

Sardanapaeu.s 

Th' Assyryans king — in peas, with fowle desyre 
And filthy e lustes that staynd his regall harte — 
In warr, that should sett pryncelye hertes a fyre, 
Vaynquyshd, dyd yelde for want of martyj?ll arte. 

{77) 



78 The Poems of Surrey 

The dent of swordes from kysses semed straunge, 5 

And harder then hys ladyes syde his targe; 

From glotton feastes to sowldyers fare a chaunge ; 

His hehnet, far aboue a garlandes charge. 

Who scace the name of manhode dyd retayne, 

Ffeble of sprete, vnpacyent of payne, 

When he hadd lost his honour and hys right, — 

Prowde, tyme of wehhe, in stormes appawld with drede — , 

Murdred hym self to shew some manfull dede. 

Drenched in slouthe & womanishe delight. 10 



41 

The Happy Life 

Marshall, the thinges for to attayne 
The happy life be thes, I fynde: 
The riches left, not got with payne ; 
The f rut full grownd; the quyet mynde; 

The equall f reend ; no grudge, nor stryf ; 5 

No charge of rule nor governance ; 
Without disease, the helthfull life; 
The howshold of contynvance ; 
The meane dyet, no delicate fare; 

Wisdom ioyned with simplicitye; 10 

The night discharged of all care, 
Where wyne may beare no soveranty; 
The chast wife, wyse, without debate ; 
,SkAiifJ''. <>'«;'; Suche sleapes as may begyle the night ; 

%**7^ Contented with thyne owne estate, 15 

Neyther wisshe death, nor fear his might. 



42 
The Golden Mean 

Of thy lyfe, Thomas, this compasse well mark: 
Not aye with full sayles the hye seas to beat; '" 
Ne by coward dred, in shonning stormes dark, 
On shalow shores thy keel in perill freat. 
Who so gladly halseth the golden meane, 
Voyde of dangers aduisdly hath his home 
Not with lothsom muck, as a den vncleane, 
Nor palacelyke, wherat disdayn may glome. 



MoRAi, AND Didactic Poems 79 

The lofty pyne the great winde often riues ; 

With violenter swey falne turrets stepe; ' 10 

Lightninges assault the hye mountains and cliues. 

A hart well stayd, in ouerthwartes depe, 

Hopeth amendes ; in swete, doth f eare the sowre. 

God, that sendeth, withdrawth winter sharp. 

Now ill, not aye thus: once Phebus to lowre 15 

With bow vnbent shall cesse, and frame to harp 

His voyce. In straite estate appere thou stout; 

And so wisely, when lucky gale of winde 

All thy puft sailes shall fil, loke well about. 

Take in a ryft ; hast is wast, profe doth fmde. 20 



43 
The Ages of Man 

Laid in my quyett bedd, in study as I weare, 
I saw within my troubled hed a heape of thoughtes appeare; 

And every thought did shew so lyvelye in myne eyes. 
That now I sight, and then I smylde, as cawse of thought did ryse. 

I saw the lytle boye, in thought how ofte that he 5 

Did wishe of Godd to scape the rodd, a tall yong man to be ; 

The yong man, eke, that feeles his bones with paynes opprest, 
How he wold be a riche olde man, to lyve and lye att rest; 

The ryche olde man, that sees his end draw on so sore. 
How he wolde be a boy agayne, to lyve so moche the more. 10 

Wheare at, full ofte I smylde, to see how all theise three, 
From boy to man, from man to boy, wold chopp and chaunge degree ; 

And musinge thus, I thincke the case is very straunge, 
That man from wealth, to lyve in woe, doth ever seeke to chaunge. 

Thus thought full as I laye, I saw my witheryd skynne 15 

How it doth shew my dynted jawes, the flesshe was worne so tliynne. 

And eke my tothelesse chapps, the gates of my right way, 
That opes and shuttes as I do speake, do thus unto me say: 

"Thie whyte and horishe heares, the messengers of age. 
That shew lyke lynes of true belief that this lif doth ass wage, 20 

Bides the lay hand, and feele them hanging on thie chyn, 
The whiche do wryte twoe ages past, the thurd now cumming in. 

Hang upp, therfore, the bitt of thie yonge wanton tyme. 
And thow that theare in beaten art, the happyest lif defyne." 

Wheare at I sight, and said, "Farewell ! my wonted joye; 25 

Trusse upp thie pack, and trudge from me to every lytle boye. 

And tell them thus from me, theire tyme moste happie is, 
Yf, to their tyme, they reason had to know the truthe of this." 



ELEGIAC POEMS 

44 
A Tribute to W'yatt 

In the rude age when scyence was not so rife, 

If Jove in Crete, and other where they taught 

Artes to reverte to prolyte of our lyfe, 

Wan after deathe to have their temples sought ; 

If vertue yet, in no vnthankfull tyme, 5 

Fayled of some to blast her endles fame — 

A goodlie meane bothe to deter from cryme 

And to her steppes our sequell to enflame; 

In deyes of treuthe, if Wyattes frendes then waile — 

The onelye debte that ded of quycke may clayme — 10 

That rare wit spent, employde to our avayle, 

Where Christe is tought, deserve they monnis blame? 

His livelie face thy brest hov/ did it freate, 

V/hose cynders yet v.'ith envye doo the eate. 



45 
A Second Tribute to Vv'yatt 

Dyvers "Jiy- death doo d3wersl3^e bemone. 

Some, that in presence of that livelye hedd 

Liirked, whose brestes envye with hate had sowne, 

Yeld Cesars teres vppon Pompeius hedd. 

Some, that watched with the murdrers knyfe, 5 

With egre thurst to drynke thy guyltles blood. 

Whose practyse brake by happye end of lyfe, 

Weape envyous teares to here thy fame so good. 

But I that knewe what harbourd in that hedd, 

What vertues rare were temperd in that brest, 10 

Honour the place that such a iewell bredd. 

And kysse the ground, v/here as thy coorse doth rest, 

With vaporde eyes; from whence suche streames avayle 

As Pyramus did on Thisbes brest bewayle. 



(80) 



Elegiac Poems 81 

46 
A Third Tribute to Wyatt 

W. restetli here, that quick could neuer rest ; 
Whose heauenly giftes encreased by disdain, 
And vertue sank the deper in his brest : 
Such profit he by enuy could obtain. 

A hed, where wisdom misteries did frame; 5 

Whose hammers bet styll in that huely brayn 
As on a stithe, where that some work of fame 
Was dayly wrought, to turne to Britaines gayn. 

A visage, stern and myld ; where bothe did grow, 
Vice to contemne, in vertue to reioyce ; 10 

Amid great stormes, whom grace assured so, 
To lyue vpright, and smile at fortunes choyce. 

A hand, that tavtght what might be sayd in ryme ; 
That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit ; 

A mark, the which — vnparfited, for time — 15 

Some may approche, but neuer none shall hit. 

A toung, that serued in forein realmes his king; 
Whose courteous talke to vertue did enflame 
Eche noble hart ; a worthy guide to bring 
Our English youth, by trauail, vnto fame. 20 

An eye, whose iudgement none affect could bilnde. 
Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile ; 
Whose persing loke did represent a mynde 
With vertue fraught, reposed, voyd of gyle. 

A hart, where drede was neuer so imprest 25 

To hyde the thought that might the trouth auance ; 
In neyther fortune lost, nor yet represt. 
To sv/ell in wealth, or yeld vnto mischance. 

A valiant corps, where force and beawty met, 
Happy, alas ! to happy, but for foes, 30 

Lieud, and ran the race that nature set ; 
Of manhodes shape, vrhere she the molde did lose. 



82 The Poems oe Surrey 

But to the heauens that simple soule is fled ; 
Which left with such, as couet Christ to know, 
Witnesse of faith that neuer shall be ded ; 35 

Sent for our helth, but not receiued so. 

Thus, for our gilte, this iewel haue we lost ; 
The earth his bones, the heavens possesse his gost. 



47 
A Tribute to Thomas Clere 

Norfolk sprang thee, Lambeth holds thee dead, 

Clere, of the County of Cleremont, though hight. 

Within the womb of Ormonds race thou bred, 

And sawest thy cousin crowned in thy sight. 

Shelton for love, Surrey for lord, thou chase ; — 5 

Aye, me ! while life did last that league was tender. 

Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsall blaze, 

Latmdersey burnt, and battered Bullen render. 

At Muttrel gates, hopeless of all recure, 

Thine Earl, half dead, gave in thy hand his will ; 10 

Which cause did thee this pining death procure, 

Ere summers four times seven thou couldst fulfill. 

Ah, Clere ! if love had booted, care, or cost, 

Heaven had not wonne, nor earth so timely lost. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE BIBLE 

48 
Eccle;siastrs 1 

I, Salamon, Dauids sonne, King of lerusalem, 
Chossen by God to teach the lewes and in his lawes to leade them, 

Oonfesse vnder the sonne that euery thing is uayne, 
The world is false, man he is fraile, and all his pleasures payne. • 

Alas ! what stable fritte may Adams children fynde 5 

In that, they seke by sweate of browes and trauill of their mynde. 

We that line on the earthe, drawe toward our decay ; 
Ower childeren fill our place a whille, and then they fade awaye. 

Such chaunges maks the earthe, and dothe remoue for none. 
But sarues us for a place too play our tragedes vppon. 10 

When that the restles sonne, westwarde his course hathe ronne. 
Towards the east he hasts as fast, to ryse where he begonne. 

When hoorrey Boreas hathe blowen his frosen blaste. 
Then Zephirus, with his gentill breathe, dissolues the ise as fast. 

Ffludds that drinke vpp smale broks and swell by rage of rayne, 15 
Discharge in sees which them repulse, and swallowe strayte againe. 

These worldly pleasures, Lord, so swifte they ronne their race 
That skace our eyes may them discerne, they bide so littell space. 

What hathe bin, but is now, the like hereafter shall. 
What new deuice grounded so suer, that dreadeth not the fall ? 20 

What may be called new, but suche things in tymes past 
As time buryed and dothe reuiue, and tyme agayne shall waste ? 

Things past right worthey fame, haue now no brute at all ; 
Euen so shall dey suche things as now the simple, wounders call. 

I that, in Dauides seate, sit crowned and reioyce, 25 

That with my septer rewle the lewes and teache them with my uoyce, 

Haue serchied long to know all things vnder the sonne. 
To see how, in this mortall lyef, a suerty might be wonne. 

This kyndled will to knowe, straunge things for to desyer, 
God hathe grafte in our gredye breasts, a torment for our hier. 30 

The end of cache trauell, furthwith I sought to knoo ; 
I found them uaine, mixed with gall, and burdend with muche woo. 

Defaults of natures wourke no mans hand may restore, 
Whiche be in nomber like the sandes vppon the salte floods shore. 



(83) 



84 The Poems of Surrey 

Then, vaunting in my witte, I gan call to my mynd 35 

What rewles of wysdom I hadde taught, that elders could not find ; 

And as, by contraries, to treye most things, we use. 
Mens follies and ther errors, eke, I gan them all peruse, 

Thyerby with more delight, to knowledge for to clime. 
But this I found an endles wourke of payne and losse of tyme, 40 

Ffor he, to wisdomes skoole, that doth applie his mynd. 
The further that he wades ther in, the greater doubts shall find. 

And such as enterprice, to put newe things in ure, 
Of some, that shall skorne their deuise, may well them selfes assure. 



49 

ECCLESIASTES 2 

From pensif fanzies, then, I gan my hart reuoke. 
And gaue me to suche sporting plaies as laughter myght prouoke ; 

But euen suche uain delights, when they moste blinded me, 
Allwayes, me thought, with smiling grace, a king did yll agre. 

Then sought I how to please my belly with muche wine, 5 

To feede me fatte with costely feasts of rare delights and line. 

And other plesures, eke, too purchace me with rest. 
In so great choise to finde the thing that might content me best. 

But, Lord, what care of mynde, what soddaine stornies of ire. 
With broken slepes enduryd I, to compasse my desier ! 10 

To buylde my bowses f aier then sett I all my cure ; 
By princely acts thus straue I still to make my fame indure. 

Delicius gardens, eke, I made to please my sight, 
And grafte therin all kindes of fruts that might my mouthe delight, 

Condits, by liuely springs, from their owld course I drevvX, 15 

For to refreshe the fruitfull trees that in my gardynes gre\';c. 

Of catell great encreace I bred in littell space. 
Bondmen I bought, I gaue them wifes, and sarued me with ther race. 

Great heapes of shining gold, by sparing gan I saue. 
With things of price so furnyshed as fitts a prince to haue. 20 

To heare faier women sing, sometyme I did reioyce ; 
Rauyshed with ther pleasannt tunes, and swetnes of their voyce. 

Lemans I had, so faier and of so liuely hewe 
That who so gased in their face myght well their bewtey rewe. 

Neuer erste sat tlieyr king so riche, in Dauyds seate ; 25 

Yet still me thought for so sm.ale gaine the trauaile was to great. 

From my desirous eyes I hyd no pleasannt sight. 
Nor from my hart no kind of myrth that might geue them delyght ; 



Translations From the Biele 85 

Which was the only f rente I rept of all my payne,- — 
To feade my eyes and to reioyce my hart with all my gaine. 30 

But when I made my compte, with howe great care of raynd 
And hertes vnrest that I had sought so wastfull f rutt to fynde, 

Then was I streken strayte with that abused fier, 
To glorey in that goodly witte that compast my desyer. 

But freshe before myne eyes grace did my fawlts renewe • 35 

What gentill callings I hadd fledd, ray ruyne to purs we, 

What raging pleasurs past, perill and hard eskape, 
AVhat fancis in my hed had wrought the licor of the grape. 

The erroure then I sawe that their fraile harts dothe moue, 
Which striue in vaine for to compare with him that sitts aboue. 40 

In whose most perfect worcks suche craft apperyth playne 
That to the least of them, their may no mortall hand attayne ; 

And, like as light some day dothe shine aboue the night. 
So darke to me did folly seme, and wysdomes beames as bright. 

Whose eyes did seme so clere, mots to discern and fynde, 45 

But will had clossed follies eyes, which groped like the blynde. 

Yet death and time consum.e all witt and worldly fame. 
And looke what ende that folly hath, and wisdome hath the same. 

Then sayd I thus, "Oh Lord, may not thy wisdome cure 
The waylfull wrongs and hard conflicts that folly doth endure?" 50 

To sharpe my witt so fine then why toke I this payne ? 
Now finde I well this noble serche may eke be called vayne. 

As slanders lothsome brute soundes follies iust rewarde. 
Is put to silence all be time, and brought in smale regarde, 

Eun so dothe tyme deuoure the noble blast of fame, 55 

Which showld resounde their glories great that doo desarue the same. 

Thus present changes chase away the wonders past, 
Ne is the wise mans fattal thred yet lenger spunne to last. 

Then, in this wredtched vale, our lief I lothed playne, 
When I beheld our frutles paynes to compasse pleassurs A'ayne. 60 

My trauayll this a vaile hath me produced, loo ! 
An heire unknowen shall reape the frute that I in sede did so we. 

But whervnto the Lord his nature shall inclyne. 
Who can fore knowe, into whose handes I must my goods resine ! 

But, Lord, how pleasannt swete then seamd the idell liefe, 65 

That neuer charged was with care, nor burdened with, stryefe; 

And vile the grede trade of them that toile so bore, 
To leaue to suche ther trauells frute that neuer swet therfore. 

What is that pleasant gaine, which is that svv^et relief, 
That showld delay the bitter tast that we fele of our gref ? 70 



86 The; Poems of Surrey 

The gladsome dayes we passe to serche a simple gaine, 
The quiete nights, with broken slepes, to fead a resteles brayne. 

What hope is left us then, what comfort dothe remayne ? 
Our quiet herts for to reioyce with the frute of our payne. 

Yf that be trew, who may him selfe so happy call / 

As I, whose free and sumptius spence dothe shyne beyonde them all ? 

Sewerly it is a gift and fauor of the Lorde, 
Liberally to spende our goods, the ground of all discorde ; 

And wretched herts haue they that let their tressurs mold, 
And carrey the roodde that skorgeth them that glorey in their gold. ^ 

But I doo knowe by proofe, whose ryches beres suche brute. 
What stable welthe may stand in wast, or heping of suche frute. 



50 

ECCEESIASTES 3 

Like to the stereles boote that swerues with euery wynde. 
The slipper topp of worldely welthe by crewell prof I fynde. 

Skace hath the seade, wherof that nature foremethe man, 
Receuid lief, when deathe him yeldes to earth wher he began. 

The grafted plants with payn, wherof wee hoped frute, 5 

To roote them vpp, with blossomes sprede, then is our cheif porsute. 

That erst we rered vpp, we undermyne againe; [paine. 

And shred the spraies whose grouthe some tyme we laboured with 

Eache frowarde thretning chere of fortune maiks vs playne, 
And euery plesant showe reuiues our wofull herts againe. 10 

Auncient walles to race is our unstable guyse. 
And of their wether beten stones to buylde some new deuyse. 

New fanzes dayly spring, which vaade returning moo; 
And now we practyse to optaine that strayt we must forgoo. 

Some tyme we seke to spare that afterward we wast, 15 

And that we traueUd sore to knitt for to unclose as fast. 

In sober sylence now our quiet lipps we closse, 
And with vnbrydled toungs furth with our secret herts disclosse. 

Suche as in folded armes we did embrace, we haate ; 
Whom strayte we reconsill againe and banishe all debate. 20 

My sede with labour sowne, suche frute produceth me. 
To wast my lief in contraries that neuer shall agree. 

From God these heuy cares ar sent for our vnrests, 
And with suche burdens for our welth he frauteth full our brests. 



Translations From the Bible; 87 

All that the Lord hathe wrought, hath bewtey and good grace, 25 
And to eache thing assined is the proper tyme and place. 

And graunted eke to man, of all the worldes estate 
And of eache thinge wrought in the same, to argue and debate. 

Which arte though it approche the heuenly knowlege moste. 
To serche the naturall grounde of things yet all is labor loste. 30 

But then the wandering eyes, that longe for suertey sought, 
Founde that by paine no certayne welth might in this world be bought. 

Who lieuth in delight and seks no gredy thryfte. 
But frely spends his goods, may thinke it as a secret gifte. 

Fulfilled shall it be, what so the Lorde intende, 35 

Which no deuice of mans witt may advaunce, nor yet def ende ; 

Who made all thing of nought, that Adams chyldren might [sight. 
Lerne how to dread the Lord, that wrought suche wonders in their 

The gresly wonders past, which tyme wearse owt of mynde. 
To be renewed in our dayes the Lord hath so assynde. 40 

Lo ! thuse his carfull skourge dothe stele on, us vnware. 
Which, when the fleshe hath clene forgott, he dothe againe repaire. 

When I in this uaine serche had wanderyd sore my witt, 
I saw a rioall throne wheras that iustice should haue sitt. 

In stede of whom I saw, with fyerce and crwell mode, 45 

Wher wrong was set, that blody beast, that drounke the giltles blode. 

Then thought I thus : "One day the Lord shall sitt in dome. 
To vewe his flock, and chose the pure ; the spotted haue no rome." 

Yet be suche skourges sent that eache agreuid mynde, 
Lyke the brute beasts that swell in rage and fury by ther kynde, 50 

His erroure may conf esse, when he hath wreasteled longe ; 
And then with pacience may him arme, the sure defence of wronge. 

For death, that of the beaste the carion doth deuoure. 
Unto the noble kynde of man presents the fatall hower. 

The perfitt forme that God hathe ether geuen to man 55 

Or other beast, dissolue it shall to earth wher it began. 

And who can tell yf that the sowle of man ascende. 
Or with the body if it dye, and to the ground decende. 

Wherfore eache gredy hart that riches seks to gayne. 
Gather may he that sauery frutte that springeth of his payne. 60 

A meane conuenient welth I meane to take in worth, 
And with a hand of larges eke in measure poore it fourth. 

For treasure spent in lyef , the bodye dothe sustayne ; 
The heire shall waste the whourlded gold amassed with niuche payne. 

Ne may foresight of man suche order geue in lyef, 65 

For to foreknow who shall reioyce their gotten good with stryef. 



The Poems of Surrey 
51 

ECCLESIASTES 4 

When I be thought me well, vnder the restles soon 
By foolke of power what crewell wotirks unchastyced were doon, 

I saw wher stoode a heard by power of suche opprest, 
Oute of whose eyes ran floods of teares that bayned all ther brest ; 

Deuoyde of comfort clene, in terroure and distresse, 5 

In whose defence none wolde aryse, suche rigor to represse. 

Then thought I thus, "Oh, Lord ! the dead, whose fatall hower 
Is clene roune owt, more happy ar, whom that the wormes deuoure; 

And happiest is the sede that neuer did conceue, 
That neuer felt the waylfull wrongs that mortall folke receue." 10 

And then I saw that welth, and euery honest gayne 
By trauill woune and swete of browes, gan grow into disdayne 

Throughe slouthe of carles folke, whom ease so fatt dothe feade. 
Whose idell hands doo noght but waast the frute of other seeade ; 

Which to them selves perswacle that little gott with ease 15 

J.Iore thankefuU is then kyndomes woon by trauayle and disceace. 

A nother sort I saw, with out bothe frend or kynne, 
Whose gredy wayes yet neuer sought a faitlifull frend to ^■,■inn^ ; 

Whose wretched corps no toile yet euer wery could, 
Nor glutted euer wer their eyne with heaps of shyning gould. 20 

But yf it might appeare to ther abused eyne 
To whose a vaile they trauill so, and for whose sake they pyne. 

Then should they see what cause they haue for to repent 
The f ruteles paynes and eke the tyme that they in vayne haue spent. 

Then gan I thus resolue, "More pleasant is the lyef 25 

Of faythefull frends that spend their goods in commone, v.ith out 

stryef." 

For as the tender frend appeasith euery gryef, 
So, yf he fall that lives alone, who shalbe his relyef ? 

The f rendly feares ly warme, in armes embraced faste ; 
Who sleapes aloone at euery tourne dothe feale the winetr blast. 30 

What can he doo but yeld, that must resist aloone? 
Yf ther be twaine, one may defend the tother ouer throwne. 

The single twwned cordes may no suche stresse indure 
As cables brayded thre fould may, together Vv^rethed swer. 

In better far estate stande children, poore and wyse, 3.'^' 

Then aged kyngs wedded to will, that worke with out aduice. 

In prison haue I sene, or this, a wofull wyght 
That neuer knewe what fredom ment, nor tasted of delyght ; 

With such, unhoped happ in most dispaier hath mete. 
With in the hands that erst ware giues to haue a septure sett. 40 



Translations From the Bible 89 

And by coniures the seade of kyngs is thrust from staate, 
Wheron agreuyd people worke ofteymes their hidden haat. 

Other, with out respect, I saw, a frend or foo. 
With feat worne bare in tracing such, whearas the honours groo. 

And at change of a prynce great rowtes reuiued strange, 45 

Which, faine theare owlde yoke to discharg, reioyced in the change. 

But when I thought, to theise as heuy euen or more 
Shalbe the burden of his raigne, as his that went before, 

And that a trayne Hke great upon the deade depend, 
I gan conclude cache gredy gayne his vncertayne end. 50 

In humble spritte is sett the temple of the Lorde ; 
Wher, yf thow enter, loke thy mouth and conscyence may accorde. 

Whose churtche is buylte of loue, and decte with hoote desyre, 
And simple fayth ; the yolden boost his marcy doth requyre. 

Wher perfectly for aye he in his woord dothe rest ; 55 

With gentill care to heare thy sute and graunt to thy request. 

In boost of owtwarde works he taketh no delight, 
Nor wast of wourds ; suche sacrvfice unsauereth in his sight. 



52 

ECCLESIASTES 5 

When that repentant teares hathe clensyd clere from ill 
The charged brest, and grace hathe wrought therin amending will, 

With bold demands then may his mercy well assaile 
The speche man sayth, with owt the which request may not preuaile. 

More shall thy pennytent sighes his endles mercy please, 5 

Then their importune siuts which dreame that words Gods wrath 

appease. 

For hart contrit of fault is gladsome recompence. 
And praier fruict of faythe, wherby God dothe with synne dispence. 

As ferfull broken slepes spring from a restles hedde, 
By chattering of vnholly lippis is frutles prayer bredde. 10 

In wast of wynde, I rede, vowe nought vnto the Lord, 
Wherto thy hart, to bynd thy will, freely doth not accord ; 

For humble uowes fulfilld, by grace right swetly smoks. 
But bold behests, broken by lusts, the wrath of God prouoks. 

Yet bett with humble hert thy frayltye to confesse, 15 

Then to host of suche perfitnes, whose works suche fraude expresse. 

With fayned words and othes contract with God no gyle ; 
Suche craft returns to thy nown harnie, and doth thy self defile. 

And thoughe the niyst of sinne perswad such error light, 
Therby yet ar thy owtward works all dampned in his sight. 20 



90 The Poems of Surrey 

As sondry broken dreames vs dyuerslye abuse, 
So ar his errors manifold that many words dothe use. 

With humble secret playnt, fewe words of hotte effect, 
Honor thy Lord ; alowance vaine of uoyd desart, neglect. 

Thoughe wronge at tymes the right, and welthe eke nede oppresse, 25 
Thinke not the hand of iustice slowe to followe the redresse. 

For such unrightius folke, as rule with out dredd. 
By some abuse or secret lust he suffereth to be led. 

The cheif blisse that in earth the lining man is lent, 
Is moderat welth to nourishe lief, yf he can be content. 30 

He that hath but one felde, and gredely sekethe nought 
To fence the tillers hand from nede, is king within his thought. 

But suche as of ther golde ther only idoU make, 
Noe treasure may the rauen of there hungry hands asslake. 

For he that gapes for good, and hurdeth all his gayne, 35 

Trauells in uayne to hyde the sweet that showld releue his payne. 

Wher is gret welth, their showld be many a nedy wight 
To spend the same, and that should be the riclie mans cheif delight. 

The sweet and quiet slepes that weryd limmes oppresse, 
Begile the night in diet thyne, and feasts of great excesse. 40 

But waker ly the riche, whose lyuely heat with rest 
Their charged boolks with change of meats cannot so sone dygest. 

An other righteous dome I sawe of gredy gayne : 
With busye cares suche treasures oft preseruyd to their bayne; 

The plenteus howsses sackt, the owners end with shame; 45 

Their sparkelid goods ; their nedy heyres, that showld reioyce the same. 

From welthe dyspoyled bare, from whence they came they went ; 
Clad in the clothes of pouerte as nature furst them sent. 

Naked as from the wombe we came, yf we depart. 
With toyle to seeke that wee must leue, what bote to uexe the hart ? 50 

What lyef leede testeye men then that consume their dayes 
In inwarde f reets, untempred hates, at stryef with sum alwaies. 

Then gan I prayce all those, in suche a world of stryffe. 
As take the profitt of their goods, that may be had in lyffe. 

For sure the liberall hand that hath no hart to spare 55 

This fading welthe, but powres it forthe, it is a uertu rare. 

That maks welth slaue to nede, and gold becom his thrall. 
Clings not his gutts with niggishe fare, to heape his chest with all ; 

But feeds the lusts of kynde with costely meats and wynne. 
And slacks the hunger and the thurst of nedy folke that pynne. 60 

Ne gluttons feast I meane in wast of spence to stryue. 
But temperat mealies the dulled spryts with ioye thus to reuiue. 

No care may perce wher myrth hath tempred such a brest ; 
The bitter gaull, seasoned with swet, suche wysdome may digest. 



TRANSI.ATIONS FrOM TB.^ BiBLE 91 

53 
Psalm 8 

Thie name, O Lord, howe greate is fownd before our sight ! 
Yt filles the earthe and spreades the ayre, the great workes of thie might. 

For even unto thie powre the heavens have geven a place, 
And clos\ d it above their heades a mightie lardge compace. 

Thye prayse what clowde can hyde, but it v^ill sheene agayne, 5 

Synce yonge and tender sucking babes have powre to shew it pla}-ne ; 

Whiche, in despight of those that wold this glorye hide. 
Hast put into such infantes mowthes for to confounde their pryde. 

Wherefore I shall beholde thy fygurde heaven so hye, 
Whiche shews suche printes of dyvers fonnes within the clowdye skye 10 

As hills and shapes of men, eke beastes of sondrie kynde, 
Monstruous to our outward sight and fancyes of our mynde ; 

And eke the wanishe moone whiche sheenes by night also, 
And cache one of the wondring sterres whiche after her doth goe ; 

And how to kepe their course, and whiche are those that stands, 15 

Because they be thie wonderous workes and labours of thie hands. 

But yet among all theise I aske, "What thing is man, 
Whose tourne to serve in his poore neede this worke thow first began? 

Or whate is Adames sonne that beares his fathers marke, 
For whose delyte and comp forte eke thow base wrought all this warke ? 20 

I see thow myndest hym moch that doste rewarde hym so, 
Beinge but earthe, to rule the earthe wheare on hymself doth go. 

Ffrom aungells substaunce eke, thow madeste hym differ small, 
Save one dothe chaunge his lif awhyle, the other not at all. 

The sonne and moone also, thow madeste to geve hym light, 25 

And eache one of the wandring sterrs to twynckle sparkles bright. 

The ayre to geve hym breathe, the water for his health, 
The earth to bring forth grayne and f rute for to encrease his wealth. 

And many mettalls to, for pleasure of the eye, 
Whiche, in the hollow sowndyd grownd, in previe vaynes do lye. 30 

The sheepe to geve his wool, to wrapp his boddie in, 
And for suche other needefull thynges the oxe to spare his skynne. 

The horsse, even at his will, to bear hym to and fro, 
And as hym list eache other beaste to serve his turne also. 

The fysshes of the sea lykewyse, to feede hym ofte, 35 

And eke the birdes, whose feathers sei-ve to make his sydes lye softe. 

On whose head thoW hast sett a crowne of glorye to, 
To whome also thow didest appoint that honour shuld be do. 

And thus thow madeste hym lord of all this worke of thyne : 
Of man that goes ; of beast that creapes, whose lookes dothe downe 

declyne ; 40 



92 The Poems of Surrey 

Of ffysshe that swymme below ; of ffowles that fives on hye ; 
Of sea that fyndes the ayre his rayne; and of the land so drye. 

And underneath his feete thow hast sett all this same, 
To make hym know and playne confesse that marveilous is thie name. 

And Lord, whiche art our Lord, how merveilous is it fownd 45 

The heavens doth shew, the earth doth tell, and eke the world so ro\ nd. 

Glorie therefore be geven to thee first, whiche art three, 
And yet but one almightie God, in substance and degree. 

As first it was when thow the darcke confused heape 
Clottid in one, didst part in fowre, which elementes wee cleape, 

And as the same is now, even heare within our tyme. 
And ever shall here after be, when we be filth and slyme." 



54 

Psalm 55 

Giue eare to my suit. Lord ! f romward hide not thy face. 

Beholde, herking in grief, lamenting how I praye. 

My fooes they bray so lowde, and eke threpe on so fast, 

Buckeled to do me scathe, so is their malice bent. 

Care perceth my entrayles, and traueyleth my spryte ; 5 

The greslye feare of death enuyroneth my brest ; 

A tremblynge cold of dred clene ouerwhelmeth my hert. 

"O !" thinke I, "hadd 1 vvings like to the symple doue. 

This peryll myght I flye, and seke some place of rest 

In wylder woods, where I might dwell farr from these cares." 10 

What speady way of wing my playnts shold thei lay on, 

To skape the stormye blast that threatned is to me? 

Rayne those vnbrydled tungs ! breake that coniured league ! 

For I decyphred haue amydd our towne the stryfe : 

Gyle and wrong kept the walles, they ward both day and night ; . 1 ^ 

And whiles myscheif with care doth kepe the market stede; 

Whilst wickidnes with craft in heaps swarme through the strele. 

Ne my declared foo wrought me all this reproche ; 

By harme so loked for, yt wayeth halfe the lesse. 

For, though myne ennemyes happ had byn for to prevaile, 20 

I cold haue hidd my face from uenym of his eye. 

It was a frendly foo, by shadow of good will, 

Myne old fere and dere f rende, my guyde, that trapped me ; 

Where I was wont to fetche the cure of all my care. 

And in his bosome hyde my secreat zeale to God. 25 

Such soden surprys quicke may them hell deuoure, 

Whilst I inuoke the Lord, whose power shall me defend. 



Translations From the Bible 93 

My prayer shall not cease from that the sonne disscends 

Till he his haulture wynn and hyde them in the see. 

With words of hott effect, that nioueth from hert contryte, 30 

Such humble sute, O Lord, doth pierce thy pacyent eare. 

It vv-as the Lord that brake the bloody compackts of those 

That preloked on with yre to slaughter me and myne. 

The euerlasting God whose kingdom hath no end, 

Whome, by no tale to dred he cold divert from synne, 35 

The conscyence vnquyet he stryks with heuy hand, 

And proues their force in fayth whome he sware to defend. 

Butter fales not so soft as doth hys pacyence longe, 

And ouer passeth fine oyle, running not halfe so smothe ; 

But when his suffraunce fynds that brydled wrath prouoks, 40 

He thretneth wrath, he whets more sharppe then any toole can fyle. 

Friowr, whose harme and tounge presents the wicked sort 

Of those false wolves, with cootes which doo their ravin hyde, 

That sweare to me by heauen, the fotestole of the Lord, 

Who though force had hurt my fame, they did not touch my lyfe ; — 45 

Such patching care I lothe as feeds the welth with lyes. 

But in the thother Psalme of David fynd I ease : 

lacta curam tuam super dominum et ipse te enutriet. 



55 
Psalm 88 

Oh Lorde, vppon whose will dependeth my welfare, 
To call vppon thy hollye name syns daye nor night I spare, 

Graunt that the iust request of this repentaunt mynd 
So perce thyne eares that in thy sight som fauour it may fynd. 

My sowle is fraughted full with greif of follies past : 5 

My restles bodye doth consume and death approcheth fast ; 

Lyke them whose fatall threde thy hand hath cut in twayne. 
Of whome ther is no further brewte, which in their graues remayne. 

Oh Lorde, thow hast cast me hedling, to please my fooe. 
Into a pitt all botomeles, whear as I playne my wooe. 10 

The burden of thy wrath it doth me sore oppresse. 
And sundrye stormes thow hast me sent of terrour and distresse. 

The faithfull frends ar fled and bannyshed from my sight. 
And such as I haue held full dere haue sett my frendshipp light. 

My duraunce doth perswade of fredom such dispaire 15 

That, by the teares that bayne my brest, myne eye sight doth appaire. 

Yet did I neuer cease thyne ayde for to desyre. 
With humble hart and stretched hands for to appease thy yre. 



94 The Poems of Surrey 

Wherefore dost thow forbeare, in the defence of thyne, 
To shewe such tokens of thy power, in sight of Adams lyne, 20 

Wherby eche feble hart with fayth might so be fedd 
That in the mouthe of thy elect thy mercyes might be spredd. 

The fleshe that fedeth wormes can not thy loue declare, 
Nor suche sett forth thy faith as dwell in the land of dispaire. 

In blind endured herts light of thy lively name 25 

Can not appeare, as can not iudge the brightnes of the same. 

Nor blazed may thy name be by the mouth of those 
Whome death hath shitt in sylence, so as they may not disclose. 

The liuelye uoyce of them that in thy word delight 
Must be the trumppe that must resound the glorye of thy might. 30 

Wherfore I shall not cease, in chief of my distresse. 
To call on the till that the sleape my weryd lymes oppresse. 

And in the morning eke, when that the slepe is fledd, 
With floods of salt repentaunt teres to washe my restles bedd. 

Within this carefull mynd, bourdynd with care and greif, 35 

Why dost thow not appere, Oh Lord, that sholdest be his relief ? 

My wretched state beholde, whome death shall strait assaile ; 
Of one from youth afflicted still, that never did but waile. 

The dread, loo ! of thyne yre hath trod me vnder feet ; 
The scourgis of thyne angrye hand hath made deth seme full sweet. 40 

Like to the roring wanes the sunken shipp surrounde. 
Great heaps of care did swallow me and I no succour found. 

For they whome no myschaunce could from my loue devyde 
Ar forced, for my greater greif, from me their face to hyde. 



56 
Psalm 73 

Thoughe, Lorde, to Israeli thy graces plentuous be — 
I meane to such with pure intent as fixe their trust in the — , 

Yet whiles the faith did faynt that shold haue ben my guyde, 
Lyke them that walk in slipper pathes my feet began to slyde. 

Whiles I did grudge at those that glorey in ther golde, 5 

Whose lothsom pryde reioyseth welth, in quiet as they wolde. 

To se by course of yeres what nature doth appere. 
The pallayces of princely f ourme succede from heire to heire ; 

From all such trauailes free as longe to Adams sede ; 
Neither withdrawne from wicked works by daunger nor by dread, lO 

Wherof their skornf ull pryde ; and gloried with their eyes. 
As garments clothe the naked man, thus ar they clad in vyce. 



TransIvATions From the Bible 95 

Thus as they wishe succeds the mischief that they meane, 
Whose glutten cheks slouth feads so f att as scant their eyes be sene. 

Vnto whose crewell power most men for dred ar fayne 15 

To bend and bow with loftye looks, whiles they vawnt in their rayne 

And in their bloody hands, whose creweltye doth frame 
The wailfull works that skourge the poore with out regard of blame. 

To tempt the living God they thinke it no offence, 
And pierce the symple with their tungs that can make no defence. 20 

Suche proofes bifore the iust, to cawse the harts to wauer, 
Be sett, lyke cupps myngled with gall of bitter tast and sauer. 

Then saye thy foes in skorne, that tast no other foode, 
But sucke the fleshe of thy elect and bath them in their bloode : 

"Shold we beleue the Lorde doth know and suffer this? 25 

Ffoled be he with fables vayne that so abused is." 

In terrour of the iust thus raignes iniquitye, 
Armed with power, laden with gold, and dred for crueltye. 

Then vayne the warr might seme that I by faythe mayntayne 
Against the fleshe, whose false effects my pure hert wold distayne. 30 

For I am scourged still, that no offence have doon, 
By wrathes children ; and from my byrth my chastesing begoon. 

When I beheld their pryde and slacknes of thy hand, 
I gan bewaile the wofull state wherin thy chosen stand. 

And as I sought wherof thy suf feraunce. Lord, shold groo, 35 

I found no witt cold pierce so farr, thy hollye domes to knoo. 

And that no mysteryes nor dought could be distrust 
Till I com to the holly place, the mansion of the iust. 

Where I shall se what end thy iustice shall prepare 
For such as buyld on worldly welth, and dye ther colours faire. 40 

Oh ! how their ground is false and all their buylding vayne ! [taync. 
And they shall fall, their power shall faile that did their pryde mayn- 

As charged harts with care, that dreme some pleasaunt tourne. 
After their sleape fynd their abuse, and to their plaint retourne. 

So shall their glorye faade ; thy sword of vengeaunce shall, 45 

Vnto their dronken eyes, in blood disclose their errours all. 

And when their golden fleshe is from their backe yshorne, 
The spotts that vnder neth wer hidd, thy chosen shepe shall skorne. 

And till that happye daye my hert shall swell in care. 
My eyes yeld teares, my yeres consume bitwne hope and dispayre. 50 

Loo ! how my sprits ar dull, and all thy iudgments darke ; 
No mortall hedd may skale so highe, but wunder at thy warke. 

Alas ! how oft my foes haue framed my decaye ; 
But when I stode in drede to drenche, thy hands still did me stay. 

And in cache voyage that I toke to conquer synne, 55 

Thow wert my guyd, and gaue me grace to comfort me ther in. 



96 The PoiiMs OF Surrey 

And when my withered skyn vnto my bones did cleue, 
And fleshe did wast, thy grace did then my simple sprits releiie. 

In other succour then, Oh Lord, why should I trust, 
But onely thyn, whom I haue found in thy behight so iust. 60 

And suche for drede or gayne, as shall thy name refuse, 
Shall perishe with their golden godds that did their harts seduce. 

Where I, that in thy worde haue set my trust and ioye. 
The highe reward that longs therto shall quietlye enioye. 

And my vnworthye lypps, inspired with thy grace, 65 

Shall thus forespeke thy secret works, in sight of Adams race. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ^NEID 

57 

Book 2 

They whisted all, with fixed face attent, 
When prince Aeneas from the royal seat 
Thus gan to speak : "O Ouene ! it is thy wil 
I should renew a woe cannot be told, 

How that the Grekes did spoile and ouerthrow 5 

The Phrygian wealth and wailful realm of Troy : 
Those ruthfull things that I my self beheld. 
And whereof no small part fel to my share. 
Which to expresse, who could ref raine from teres : 
What Myrmidon ? or yet what Dolopes ? 10 

What stern Ulysses waged soldiar? 
And loe ! moist night now from the welkin falles ; 
And sterres declining counsel vs to rest. 
But sins so great is thy delight to here 

Of our mishaps and Troves last decay, 15 

Though to record the same my minde abhorres 
And plaint eschues, yet thus wil I begyn. 

The Grekes chieftains all irked with the war, 
Wherin they wasted had so many yeres 

And oft repulst by fatal destinie, 20 

A huge liors made, hye raised like a hill, 
By the diuine science of Minerua ; 
Of clouen fir compacted were his ribbs ; 
For their return a fained sacrifice. 

The fame wherof so wandred it at point. 25 

In the dark bulk they closde bodies of men 
Chosen by lot, and did enstuff by stealth 
The hollow womb with armed soldiars. 

There stands in sight an isle, hight Tenedon, 
Rich, and of fame, while Priams kingdom stood ; 30 

Now but a bay, and rode vnsure for ship. 
Hether them secretly the Grekes withdrew. 
Shrouding themselues vnder the desert shore. 
And wening we they had ben fled and gone. 

And with that winde had fet the land of Grece, 35 

Troye discharged her long continued dole. 

(97) 



98 The Poems of vSurrey 

The gates cast vp, we issued out to play, 

The Grekish camp desirous to behold, 

The places void and the forsaken costes. 

Here Pyrrhus band, there ferce Achilles pight ; 40 

Here rode their shippes ; there did their batteils ioyne. 

Astonnied, some the scathefull gift beheld, 

Behight by vow vnto the chast Minerue, 

All wondring at the hugenesse of the horse. 

And fyrst of all Timoetes gan aduise 45 

Wythin the walks to leade and drawe the same, 
And place it eke amidde the palace court ; 
Whether of guile, or Troves fate it would. 
Capys, wyth some of iudgement more discrete. 

Wild it to drown, or vnderset with flame 50 

The suspect present of the Grekes deceit. 
Or bore and gage the hollowe caues uncouth. 
So diuerse ranne the giddy peoples minde. 
Loe ! formest of a rout that followd him, 

Kindled Laocoon hasted from the towre, 55 

Crieng far of : 'O wreched citezens, 
What so great kind of frensie freteth you? 
Deme ye the Grekes our enemies to be gone? 
Or any Grekish giftes can you suppose 

Deuoid of guile ? Is so Ulysses known? 60 

Either the Grekes ar in this timber hid. 
Or this an engin is to anoy our walles, 
To view our toures, and ouerwhelme our towne. 
Here lurkes some craft. Good Troyans, geue no trust 
Unto this horse, for, what so euer it be, 65 

I dred the Grekes ; yea ! when they offer gyftes !' 
And with that word, with all his force a dart 
He launced then into that croked wombe ; 
Which tremling stack, and shoke within the side, 
Wherwith the caues gan hollowly resound. 70 

And, but for Faites and for our blind forcast. 
The Grekes deuise and guile had he discried; 
Troy yet had stand, and Priams toures so hie. 

Therwyth behold, wheras the Phrigian herdes 
Brought to the king with clamor, all vnknown 75 

A yongman, bound his handes behinde his back ; 
Whoe willingly had yelden prisoner, 
To frame his guile, and open Troyes gates 
Unto the Grekes ; with courage fully bent. 

And minde determed either of the twaine, — 80 

To worke his feat, or willing yeld to death. 



TransIvATions From the ^neid 99 

Nere him, to gaze, the Troyan youth gan flock. 

And straue whoe most might at the captiue scome. 

The Grekes deceit beholde, and by one profe 

Imagine all the rest. 85 

For ii /he preasse as he vnarmed stood, 

Wyth troubled chere, and Phrigian routes beset, 

'Alas !' quod he, 'what earth nowe, or what seas 

May me receyue? catif, what restes me nowe? 

For whom in Grece doth no abode remayne ; 90 

The Troians eke offended seke to wreke 

Their hainous wrath, wyth shedyng of my bloud.' 

With this regrete our hartes from rancor moued. 

The brute appeasde, we askte him of his birth. 

What newes he brought, what hope made hym to yeld. 95 

Then he, al dred remoued, thus began: 
'O King! I shall, what euer me betide, 
Say but the truth ; ne first will me denie 
A Grecian borne, for though fortune hath made 
Sinon a wretche, she can not make him false. 100 

If euer came vnto your eares the name, 
Nobled by fame, of the sage Palamede, 
Whom traitrously the Grekes condemd to dye, 
Giltlesse, by wrongfull dome, for that he dyd 

Dyssuade the warres, — whose death they nowe lament ; 105 

Undemeth him my father, bare of wealth. 
Into his band yong, and nere of his blood, 
In my prime yeres vnto the war me sent. 
While that by fate his state in stay did stand. 

And when his realm did florish by aduise, 110 

Of glorie, then, we bare som fame and brute. 
But sins his death by false Ulyssez sleight 
— I speak of things to all men wel beknown — , 
A drery life in doleful plaint I led, 

Repining at my gyltlesse f rends mischaunce. 115 

Ne could I, fool ! ref rein my tong from thretes, 
That if my chaunce were euer to return 
Victor to Arge, to folowe my reuenge. 
With such sharp words procured I great hate ; 

Here sprang my harm. Ulysses euer sithe 120 

With new found crimes began me to affray ; 
In common eares false rumors gan he sowe ; 
Weapons of wreke his gylty minde gan seke. 
Ne rested ay till he by Calchas meane — 
But whereunto these thanklesse tales in vaine 125 



100 The Poems of Surrey 

Do I reherse, and lingre fourth the time, 

In Hke estate if all the Grekes ye price? 

It is enough ye here rid me at ones. 

Ulysses, Lord ! how he wold this reioise ! 

Yea, and either Atride would bye it dere.' 130 

This kindled vs more egre to enquire. 
And to demaund the cause; without suspect 
Of so great mischef thereby to ensue, 
Or of Grekes craft. He then with forged words 
And quiuering limes, thus toke hys tale again. 135 

'The Grekes oft times entended their return 
Ffom Troye town, with long warrs all ytired. 
For to dislodge ; which, would God ! they had done. 
But oft the winter storms of raging seas, 

And oft the boisteous winds did them to stay; 140 

And chiefly, when of clinched ribbes of firre 
This hors was made, the storms rored in the aire. 
Then we in dout to Phebus temple sent 
Euripilus, to wete the prophesye. 

From whens he brought these woful news again : 145 

'With blood, O Grekes ! and slaughter of a maid, 
Ye pleasd the winds, when first ye came to Troy. 
With blood likewise ye must seke your return : 
A Grekish soule must offred be therefore.' 

'But when this sound had pearst the peoples eares, 150 

With sodein fere astonied were their mindes ; 
The chilling cold did ouerrunne their bones. 
To whom that fate was shapte whom Phebus wold. 
Ulysses then amid the preasse bringes in 

Calchas with noyse, and wild him to discusse 155 

The gods intent. Then some gan deme to me 
The cruell w^rek of him that framde the craft, 
Foreseing secretly what wold ensue. 
In silence then, yshrowding him from sight, 

But dayes twise fine he whisted, and refused 160 

To death, by speche, to further any wight. 
At last, as forced by false Ulyssez crye. 
Of purpose he brake fourth, assigning me 
To the altar; whereto they graunted all, 

And that, that erst eche one dred to himself, 165 

Returned all vnto my wretched death. 
And now at hand drew nere the woful day ; 
All things preparde wherw\th to offer me: 
Salt, corne, fillets my temples for to bind. 



TransIvATions From the ^neid 101 

I scapte the deth, I graunt, & brake ye bands, 170 

And lurked in a marrise all the nyght 

Among the ooze, while they did set their sailes; 

If it so be that they in dede so dyd. 

Now restes no hope my natiue land to see, 

My children dere, nor long desired sire, 175 

On whom, parchaunce, they shall wreke my escape : 

Those harmless wights shal for my fault be slayn. 

'Then, by the gods, to whom al truth is known, 
By fayth vn filed, if any any where 

Wyth mortal folke remaines, I thee beseche, 180 

O king, thereby rue on my trauail great ; 
Pitie a wretch that giltlesse suffreth wrong.' 
Life to these teres, wyth pardon eke, we graunt. 
And Priam first himself commaundes to lose 
His gyues, his bands, and f rendly to him sayd : 185 

'Whoso thou art, learn to forget the Grekes ; 
Hencef ourth be oures ; and answere me with truth : 
Whereto was wrought the masse of this huge hors ? 
Whoes the deuise? and wherto should it tend? 
What holly vow .' or engin for the warres ?' 190 

Then he, instruct with wiles and Grekish craft, 
His loosed hands lift vpward to the sterrs : 
'Ye euerlasting lampes ! I testif ye, 
Whoes powr diuine may not be violate ; 

Thaltar and swerd,' quod he, 'that I haue scapt ; 195 

Ye sacred bandes ! T wore as yelden hoste ; 
Leful be it for me to breke mine othe 
To Grekes ; lefull to hate their nacion ; 
Lefull be it to sparcle in the ayre 

Their secretes all, whatsoe they kepe in close; 200 

For free am I from Grece and from their lawes. 
So be it, Troy, and, saued by me from scathe, 
Kepe faith with me, and stand to thy behest ; 
If I speak truth, and opening thinges of weight. 
For graunt of life requite thee large amendes. 205 

'The Grekes whole hope of vndertaken war 
In Pallas help consisted euermore. 
But sith the time that wicked Diomede, 
Ulysses eke, that forger of all guile, 

Auenturde from the holly sacred fane 210 

For to bereue dame Pallas fatall forme. 
And slew the watches of the chefest toure. 
And then away the holly statue stale, — 



102 The Poems of Surrey 

That were so bold with handes embrued in blood 

The virgin goddesse veiles for to defile — , 215 

Sith that, their hope gan fade, their hope to fall. 

Their powr appeir, their goddesse grace withdraw, 

Whych with no doutfull signes she did declare. 

Scarce was the statute to our tentes ybroughte, 

But she gan stare with sparcled eyes of flame; 220 

Along her limes the salt sweat trickled downe ; 

Yea, thrise her selfe — a hideous thinge to tell — 

In glaunces bright she glittered from the ground. 

Holding in hand her targe and quiuering spere. 

Calchas by sea then bade vs hast our flight, 225 

Whoes engins might not break the walles of Troy, 

Unlesse at Grece they wold renew their lottes. 

Restore the god that they by sea had brought 

In warped keles. To Arge sith they be come, 

They pease their godds, and war afresh prepare, 230 

And crosse the seas vnloked for eftsones 

They will return. This order Calchas set. 

'This figure made they for thagreued god 
In Pallas stede, to dense their liainous fault. 

Which masse he willed to be reared hye 235 

Toward the skies, and ribbed all with oke. 
So that your gates ne wall might it receiue ; 
Ne yet your people might defensed be 
By the good zele of old deuotion. 

For if your hands did Pallas gift defile, 240 

To Priams realm great mischef shold befall ; 
Which fate the gods first on him self return ! 
But) had your owne handes brought it in your town, 
Asie should passe, and carrie of fred war 

In Grece, euen to the walles of Pelops town, 245 

And we and oures that destenie endure.' 

By such like wiles of Sinon, the forswome. 
His tale with vs did purchace credit; some, 
Trapt by deceite ; some, forced by his teres ; 

Whom neither Diomede, nor great Achille, 250 

Nor ten yeres war, ne a thousand saile could daunt. 

Us caitifes then a far more dredful chaunce 
. Befell, that trobled our vnanned brestes. 
Whiles Laocon, that chosen was by lot 

Neptunus priest, did sacrifice a bull 255 

Before the holy altar, sodenly 
From Tenedon, behold ! in circles great 



TransIvATions From the /Eneid 103 

By the calme seas come fletyng adders twaine, 

Which pHed towardes the shore — I lothe to tell — 

With rered brest lift vp aboue the seas ; 260 

Whose bloody crestes aloft the waues were seen . 

The hinder part swame hidden in the flood ; 

Their grisly backes were linked manifold. 

With sound of broken waues they gate the strand, 

With gloing eyen, tainted with blood and fire ; 265 

Whoes waltring tongs did lick their hissing mouthes. 

We fled away, our face the blood forsoke ; 

But they with gate direct to Lacon ran. 

And first of all eche serpent doth enwrap 

The bodies small of his two tender sonnes, 270 

Whoes wrectched limes they byt, and fed theron. 

Then raught they hym, who had his wepon caught 

To rescue them ; twise winding him about, 

With folded knottes and circled tailes, his wast ; 

Their scaled backes did compasse twise his neck, 275 

Wyth rered heddes aloft and stretched throtes. 

He with his handes straue to vnloose the knottes. 

Whose sacred fillettes all be sprinkled were 

With filth of gory blod, and venim rank, 

And to the sterres such dredfull shoutes he sent, 280 

Like to the sound the roring bull fourth loowes. 

Which from the halter wounded doth astart, 

The swaruing axe when he shakes from his neck. 

The serpentes twain with hasted trade they glide 

To Pallas temple, and her towres of heighte; 285 

Under the feete of which the goddesse stern. 

Hidden behinde her targettes bosse they crept. 

New gripes of dred then pearse our trembling brestes. 

They sayd Lacons desertes had derely bought 

His hainous dede, that pearced had with stele 290 

The sacred bulk, and throwen the wicked launce. 

The people cried with sondry greeing shouts 

To bring the horse to Pallas temple bliue, 

In hope thereby the goddesse wrath tappease. 

We cleft the walles and closures of the towne, 295 

Whereto all helpe, and vnderset the feet 

With sliding rolles, and bound his neck with ropes. 

This fatall gin thus ouerclambe our walles, 

Stuft with armed men; about the which there ran 

Children and maides, that holly carolles sang; 300 

And well were they whoes hands might touch the cordes. 



104 The Poems of Surrey 

With thretning chere thus shded through our town 

The subtil tree, to Pallas temple ward. 

O natiue land ! Ilion ! and of the goddes 

The mansion place ! O warrlik walks of Troy ! 305 

Fowr times it stopt in thentrie of our gate ; 

Fowr times the hamesse clattred in the womb. 

But we goe on, vnsound of memorie, 

And blinded eke by rage perseuer still : 

This fatal monster in the fane we place. 310 

Cassandra then, inspired with Phebus sprite. 
Her prophetes lippes, yet neuer of vs leeued, 
Disclosed eft ; forespeking thinges to come. 
We wretches, loe! that last day of our life 
With bowes of fest the town and temples deck. 315 

With this the skie gan whirle about the sphere ; 
The cloudy night gan thicken from the sea, 
With mantells spred that cloked earth and skies, 
And eke the treason of the Grekish guile. 

The watchemen lay disperst, to take their rest, 320 

Whoes werried limes sound slepe had then oppreste. 
When, well in order comes the Grecian fleet 
From Tenedon, toward the costes well knowne, 
By frendly silence of the quiet moone. 

When the kinges ship put fourth his mark of fire, 325 

Sinon, preserued by froward destinie, 
Let forth the Grekes enclosed in the womb ; 
The closures eke of pine by stealth vnpind, 
Whereby the Grekes restored were to aire. 

With ioy down hasting from the hollow^ tree, 330 

With cordes let down did slide vnto the ground 
The great captaines : Sthenel, and Thesander, 
The fierce Ulisses, Athamas, and Thoas ; 
Machaon first, then king Menolae ; 

Opeas eke that did the engin forge ; 335 

And streight inuade the town yburied then 
With wine and slepe. And first the watch is slain ; 
Then gates vnfold to let their fellowes in ; 
They ioyne themselues with the coniured bandes. 
It was the time when, graunted from the godds, 340 

The first slepe crepes most swete in wery folk. 
Loe ! in my dreame before mine eies, me thought 
With rufull chere I sawe where Hector stood, 
Out of whoes eies there gushed streames of teares, 
Drawn at a cart as he of late had be, 345 



Translations From the ^neid 105 

Distained with bloody dust, whoes feet were bowlne 

With the streight cordes wherwith they haled him. 

Ay me, what one ! that Hector how vnlike, 

Which erst retumd clad with Achilles spoiles ; 

Or when he threw into the Grekish shippes 350 

The Troian flame ! so was his beard defiled, 

His crisped lockes al cliistred with his blood, 

With all such wounds, as many he receiued 

About the walls of that his natiue town! 

Whome f ranckly thus me thought I spake vnto, 355 

With bitter teres and dolef ull deadly voice : 

'O Troyan light ! O only hope of thine ! 

What lettes so long thee staid ? or from what costes, 

Our most desired Hector, doest thou come? 

Whom, after slaughter of thy many frends, 360 

And trauaiil of the people, and thy town, 

Alweried, lord, how gladly we behold ! 

What sory chaunce hath staind thy liuely face? 

Or why see I these woundes, alas ! so wide?' 

He answeard nought, nor in my vain demaundes 365 

Abode, but from the bottom of his brest 

Sighing, he sayd : 'Flee, flee, O goddesse son. 

And saue thee from the f urie of this flame ! 

Our enmies now ar maisters of their walles. 

And Trove town now falleth from the top. 370 

Sufficeth that is done for Priams reigne. 

If force might serue to succor Troye tow^n, 

This right hand well mought haue ben her defense. 

But Troye now commendeth to thy charge 

Her holy reliques, and her priuy gods. 375 

Them ioyne to thee, as felowes of thy fate. 

Large walles rere thow for them ; for so thou shalt, 

After time spent in thouerwandred flood.' 

This sayd, he brought fourth Vesta in his hands, 

Her fillettes eke, and euerlasting flame. 380 

In this nieane while, with diuerse plaint the town 
Throughout was spred ; and lowder more and more 
The din resouned, with rattling of armes ; 
Although mine old father Anchises house 

Remoued stood, with shadow hid of trees. 385 

I waked ; therwith to the house top I clambe> 
And harkning stood I ; like as when the flame 
Lightes m the come, by drift of boisteous winde; 



106 The Poems of Surrey 

Or the swift stream, that driueth from the hill, 

Rootes vp the feldes, and presseth the ripe come 390 

And plowed ground, and ouerwhelmes the groue, 

The silly herdman all astonnied standes, 

From the hye rock while he doth here the sound. 

Then the Grekes faith, then their deceit appered. 
Of Deiphobus the palace large and great 395 

Fell to the ground, all ouerspred with flash ; 
His next neighbour Ucalegon afire ; 
The Sygean seas did ghster all with flame. 
Upsprang the crye of men, and trompettes blast. 

Then, as distraught, I did my armure on, 400 

Ne could I tell yet whereto armes auailde. 
But with our feres to throng out from the preasse 
Toward the toure, our hartes brent with desire. 
Wrath prickt vs fourth, and vnto vs it semed 
A semely thing to dye, armd in the feld. 405 

Wherewith Panthus, scapte from the Grekish dartes, 
Otreus Sonne, Phebus prest, brought in hand 
The sacred reliques and the vanquisht gods. 
And in his hand his litle nephew led ; 

And thus, as phrentik, to our gates he ran. 410 

'Panthus,' quod I, 'in what estate stand we? 
Or for refuge what fortresse shall we take?' 
Scarse spake I this, when wailing thus he sayd : 
'The later day and fate of Troye is come; 

The which no plaint or prayer may auaile. 415 

Troyans we were, and Troye was somtime. 
And of great fame the Teucrian glorie erst ; 
Fierce Joue to Grece hath now transposed all. 
The Grekes ar lordes ouer this fired town. 

Yonder huge horse that stands amid our walles 420 

Sheds armed men ; and Sinon, victor now, 
With scorne of vs doth set all things on flame. 
And, rushed in at our vnfolded gates 
Are thousands moe than euer came from Greece. 

And some with weapons watch the narrow stretes, 425 

With bright swerdes drawn, to slaughter redy bent. 
And scarse the watches of the gate began 
Them to defend, and with blinde fight resist.' 

Through Panthus words & lightning of the gods. 
Amid the flame and armes ran I in preasse, 430 

As furie guided me, and wher as I had heard 
The crye greatest that made the ayre resound. 



Translations From the --Eneid 107 

Into our band then fell old Iphytus, 

And Rypheus, that met vs by moonelight ; 

Dymas and Hypanis ioyning to our side, 435 

With yong Chorebus, Mygdonius son ; 

Which in those dayes at Troye did ariue, 

Burning with rage of dame Cassandraes loue, 

In Priams ayd and rescue of his town. 

Unhappy he ! that wold no credit geue 440 

Unto his spouses woords of prophecie. 

Whom when I saw assembled in such wise, 
So desperatly the battail to desire, 
Then f uthermore thus sayd I vnto them : 

'O ye yong men, of courage stout in vaine, 445 

For nought ye striue to saue the burning town. 
What cruel fortune hath betid, ye see; 
The gods out of the temples all ar fled, 
Through wlioes might long this empire was mainteind; 
Their altares eke are left both wast and voyd. 450 

But if your will be bend with me to proue 
That vttermost that now may vs befall. 
Then let vs dye, and runne amid our foes ; 
To vanquisht folk, despeir is only hope.' 

With this the yongmens courage did encrease, 455 

And through the dark, like to the rauening wolues 
Whom raging furie of their empty mawes 
Driues from their den, leauing with hungry throthes 
Their whelpes behinde, among our foes we ran. 

Upon their swerdes, vnto apparant death ; 460 

Holding alway the chiefe strete of the town, 
Couerd with the close shadowes of the night. 

Who can expresse the slaughter of that night. 
Or tell the nomber of the corpses slaine, 

Or can in teres bewaile them worthely? 465 

The auncient famous citie falleth down. 
That many yeres did hold such seignorie. 
With senslesse bodies euery strete is spred, 
Eche palace, and sacred porch of the gods. 

Nor yet alone the Troyan blood was shed. 470 

Manhood oft times into the vanquisht brest 
Retumes, wherby some victors Grekes ar slain, 
Cruel complaintes, and terror euery where, 
And plentie of grisly pictures of death. 

And first with vs Androgens there met, 475 

Fellowed with a swarming rout of Grekes, 



108 The Poems of Surrey 

Deeming vs, unware, of that feloship, 

With f rendly words whom thus he cald vnto : 

'Hast ye, my frendes, what slouth hath taried yow? 

Your feers now sack and spoile the burning Troy; 480 

From the tall ships where ye but newly come! 

When he had sayd and heard no answer made 

To him againe, wherto he might geue trust, 

Finding himself chaunced amid his foes, 

Mazde, he withdrew his foote back with his word. 483 

Like him that wandring in the bushes thick 

Tredes on the adder with his rechlesse foote, 

Rered for wrath, swelling her speckled neck, 

Dismayd, geues back al sodenly for fere ; 

Androgens so, feard of that sight, stept back, 490 

And we gan rush amid the thickest rout ; 

When, here and there we did them ouerthrow. 

Striken with dred, vnskilfull of the place. 

Our first labor thus lucked well with vs. 

Chorebus then, encouraged by this chaunce, 495 

Reioysing sayd : 'Hoi fourth the way of health, 
My feers, that hap and manhod hath vs taught. 
Change we our shields ; the Grekes armes do we on. 
Craft or manhod with foes what reckes it which? 
The slaine' to vs their armure they shall yeld.' 500 

And with that word Androgens crested helme 
And the rich armes of his shield did he on; 
A Grekish swerd he girded by his side. 
Like gladl}^ Dimas and Ripheus did ; 

The whole youth gan them clad in the new spoiles. 505 

Mingle with Grekes, for no good luck to vs, 
We went, and gaue many onsets that night, 
And many a Greke we sent to Plutoes court. 
Other there fled and hasted to their ships. 

And to their costes of sauegard ran againe, 510 

And some there were, for shamefull cowardrie, 
Clambe vp againe vnto the hugie horse. 
And did them hide in his wellknowen womb. 

Ay me ! bootelesse it is for any whight 
To hope on ought against will of the gods. 515 

Loe ! where Cassandra, Priams daughter dere. 
From Pallas chirch was drawn with sparkled tresse, 
Lifting in vain her flaming eyen to heuen ; 
Her eyen, for fast her tender wrestes were bound. 
Which sight Chorebus raging could not bere, 520 



TRANSI.ATIONS From thk ^nsid 109 

Recklesse of death, but thrust amid the throng; 
And after we through thickest of the swerdes. 
Here were we first ybatred with the dartes 
Of our owne feers, from the hye temples top; 

Wherby of vs grete slaughter did ensue, 525 

Mistaken by our Grekish armes and crestes. 
Then flockt the Grekes moued with wrath and ire 
Of the virgin from them so rescued ; 
The fell Aiax, and either Atrides, 

And the great band cleped the Dolopes. 530 

As wrastling windes, out of dispersed whirl, 
Befight themselues, the west with southern blast, 
And gladsom east proud of Auroraes horse ; 
The woods do whiz ; and fomy Nereus, 

Raging in furie, with three forked mace 535 

From bottoms depth doth v/eltre vp ye seas ; 
So came the Grekes. And such, as by deceit 
We sparkled erst in shadow of the night. 
And draue about our town, appered first. 

Our fained shields and weapons then they found, 540 

And, by sound, our discording voice they knew. 
We went to wreck with nomber ouerlayd. 
And by the hand of Peneleus first 
Chorebus fel before the altar dead 

Of armed Pallas ; and Rhipheus eke, 545 

The iustest man among the Troians all 
And he that best obserued equitie. 
But otherwyse it pleased now the gods. 
There Hipanis, and Dimas, both were slaine, 

Thoughpearced with the weapons of their feers ; 550 

Nor thee, Panthus, when thou wast ouerthrown, 
Pitie, nor zele of good deuocion, 
Nor habit yet of Phebus hid from scathe. 
Ye Troyan ashes, and last flames of mine, 

I cal in witnesse, that at your last fall 555 

I fled no stroke of any Grekish swerd, 
And if the fates wold I had fallen in fight, 
That with my hand I did deserue it wel. 
With this from thense I was recuiled back 

With Iphytus and Pelias alone; 560 

Iphytus weke, and feble all for age, 
Pelias lamed by Ulissez hand. 
To Priams palace cr\T did cal vs then. 
Here was the fight right hideous to behold, 
As though there had no battail ben but there, 565 



no The Poems of Surrey 

Or slaughter made els where throughout the town. 

A fight of rage and furie there we saw. 

The Grekes toward the palace rushed fast 

And, couerd with engines, the gates beset, 

And rered vp ladders against the walles ; 570 

Under the windowes scaling by their steppes, 

Fenced with sheldes in their left hands, whereon 

They did receiue the dartes ; while their right hands 

Griped for hold thembatel of the wall. 

The Troyans on the tother part rend down 575 

The turrets hye and eke the palace roofe ; 

With such weapons they shope them to defend, 

Seing al lost, now at the point of death. 

The gilt sparres and the beames then threw they down, 

Of old fathers the proud and royal workes. 580 

And with drawn swerds some did beset the gates. 

Which they did watch, and kepe in routes full thick. 

Our sprites restorde to rescue the kings house, 

To help them, and to geue the vanquisht strength. 

A postern with a blinde wicket there was, 585 

A common trade to passe through Priams house, 
On the back side wherof wast houses stood ; 
Which way eftsithes, while that our kingdome dured. 
Thin fortunate Andromache alone 

Resorted to the parentes of her make, 590 

With young Astyanax, his grandsire to see. 
Here passed I vp to the hyest toure, 
From whense the wretched Troyans did throw down 
Darts, spent in waste. Unto a turret then 

We stept, the which stood in a place aloft, 595 

The top wherof did reache wellnere the sterres. 
Where we were wont all Troye to behold, 
The Grekish nauie, and their tentes also. 
With instrumentes of iron gan we pick. 

To seke where we might finde the ioyning shronk 600 

From that high seat ; which we razed, and threw down ; 
Which falling, gaue fourthwith a rushing sound, 
And large in breadth on Grekish routes it light. 
But sone an other sort stept in theyr stede ; 
No stone vnthrown, nor yet no dart uncast. 605 

Before the gate stood Pyrrhus in the porche 
Reioysing in his dartes, with glittring amies ; 
Like to the adder with venimous herbes fed, 
Whom cold winter all bolne hid vnder ground. 
And shining bright, when she her slough had slong, 610 



Translations From the; ^neid 111 

Her slipper back doth rowle, with forked tong 

And raised brest lift vp against the sun. 

With that together came great Periphas; 

Automedon eke, that guided had somtime 

Achilles horse, now Pyrrhus armure bare; 615 

And eke with him the warlike Scyrian youth 

Assayld the house, and threw flame to the top. 

And he an axe before the formest raught, 

Wherwith he gan the strong gates hew and break. 

From whense he bet the staples out of brasse, 620 

He brake the barres, and through the timber pearst 

So large a hole, wherby they might discerne 

The house, the court, the secret chambers eke 

Of Priamus and auncient kings of Troy, 

And armed foes in thentrie of the gate. 625 

But the palace within confounded was 
With wayling, and with rufull shrikes and cryes; 
The hollow halles did howle of womens plaint ; 
The clamor strake vp to the golden sterres. 

The frayd mothers, wandring through the wide house, 630 

Embracing pillers, did them hold and kisse. 
Pyrrhus assaileth with his fathers might. 
Whom the closures ne kepers might hold out. 
With often pushed ram the gate did shake ; 

The postes beat down, remoued from their hookes ; 635 

By force they made the way, and thentrie brake. 
And now the Grekes let in, the formest slew, 
And the large palace with soldiars gan to fill. 
Not so fercely doth ouerflow the feldes 

The foming flood, that brekes out of his banks, 640 

Whoes rage of waters beares away what heapes 
Stand in his way, the coates, and eke the herdes. 
As in thentrie of slaughter furious 
I saw Pyrrhus and either Atrides. 

There Hecuba I saw, with a hundred moe 645 

Of her sons wyues, and Priam at the altar. 
Sprinkling with blood his flame of sacrifice. 
Fiftie bedchambers of his childrens wyues. 
With losse of so great hope of his ofspring. 

The pillers eke proudly beset with gold 650 

And with the spoiles of other nations, 
Fell to the ground ; and whatso that with flame 
Untouched was, the Grekes did all possesse. 

Parcase yow wold ask what was Priams fate ? 



112 The Poems of Surest 

When of his taken town he saw the chaunce, 655 

And the gates of his palace beaten down, 

His foes amid his secret chambers eke, 

Thold man in vaine did on his sholders then, 

Trembhng for age, his curace long disused. 

His bootelesse swerd he girded him about, 660 

And ran amid his foes, redy to dye. 

Amid the court, vnder the heuen, all bare, 
A great altar there stood, by which there grew 
An old laurel tree, bowing therunto, 

Which with his shadow did embrace the gods. 665 

Here Hecuba, with her yong daughters all, 
About the altar swarmed were in vaine, 
Like doues that flock together in the storme ; 
The statues of the gods embracing fast. 

But when she saw Priam had taken there 670 

His armure, like as though he had ben yong, 
'What furious thought, my wretched spouse,' quod she, 
'Did moue thee now such wepons for to weld ? 
Why hastest thow? This time doth not require 

Such succor, ne yet such defenders now ; 675 

No, though Hector my son were here againe. 
Come hether ; this altar shall saue vs all. 
Or we shall dye together.' Thus she sayd. 
Wherwith she drew him back to her, and set 
The aged man down in the holy seat. 680 

But loe ! Polites, one of Priams sons, 
Escaped from the slaughter of Pyrrhus, 
Comes fleing through the wepons of his foes, 
Searching, all wounded, the long galleries 

And the voyd courtes ; whom Pyrrhus, all in rage, 685 

Followed fast to reache a mortal wound ; 
And now in hand, well nere strikes with his spere. 
Who fleing fourth till he came now in sight 
Of his parentes, before their face fell down 

Yelding the ghost, with flowing streames of blood, 690 

Priamus then, although he were half ded. 
Might not kepe in his wrath, nor yet his words. 
But cryeth out: 'For this thy wicked work. 
And boldnesse eke such thing to enterprise. 

If in the heauens any iustice be 695 

That of such things takes any care or kepe. 
According thankes the gods may yeld to thee 
And send thee eke thy iust deserued hyre, 



Translations From the ^neid 113 

That made me see the slaughter of my childe. 

And with his blood defile the fathers face. 700 

But he, by whom thow fainst thy self begot, 

Achilles, was to Priam not so stern. 

For loe ! he tendering my most humble sute 

The right and faith, my Hectors bloodlesse corps 

Rendred, for to be layd in sepulture, 705 

And sent me to thy kingdome home again.' 

Thus sayd the aged man, and therewithal! 

Forcelesse he cast his weak vnweldy dart, 

Which, repulst from the brasse where it gaue dint, 

Without sound hong vainly in the shieldes bosse. 710 

Quod Pyrrhus: 'Then thow shalt this thing report: 

On message to Pelide my father go. 

Shew vnto him my cruel dedes, and how 

Neoptolem is swarued out of kinde. 

Now shalt thow dye,' quod he. And with that word, 715 

At the altar him trembling gan he draw. 

Wallowing through the blodshed of his son ; 

And his left hand all clasped in his heare, 

With his right arme drewe fourth his shining sword, 

Which in his side he thrust vp to the hilts. 720 

Of Priamus this was the fatal fine. 

The wo full end that was alotted him, 

When he had seen his palace all on flame. 

With mine of his Troyan turrets eke. 

That royal prince of Asie, which of late 725 

Reignd ouer so many peoples and realmes. 

Like a great stock now lieth on the shore ; 

His hed, and shoulders parted ben in twaine, 

A body now without renome and fame. 

Then first in me entred the grisly feare ; 730 

Dismayd I was. Wherwith came to my minde 
The image eke of my dere father, when 
I thus beheld the king of equal age 
Yeld vp the sprite with wounds so cruelly. 

Then thought I of Creusa left alone, 735 

And of my house in danger of the spoile. 
And the estate of young lulus eke. 
I looked back to seke what nomber then 
I might discern about me of my feeres, 
But weried they had left me all alone. 740 



114 The Poems of Surrey 

Some to the ground were lopen from aboue, 
Some in the flame their irked bodies cast. 

There was no moe but I left of them all, 
When that I saw in Uestaes temple sit 

Dame Helen, lurking in a secret place, — 745 

Such light the flame did giue as I went by. 
While here and there I cast mine eyen about. 
For she in dred least that the Troians shold 
Reuenge on her the ruine of their walles ; 

And of the Grekes the cruel wrekes also, 750 

The furie eke of her forsaken make ; 
The common bane of Troy and eke of Grece, 
Hateful she sate beside the altars hid. 
Then boyld my brest with flame and burning wrath 
To reuenge my town, vnto such ruine brought ; 75b 

With worthy peines on her to work my will. 
Thought I: 'Shall she passe to the land of Spart 
All safe and see Mycene her natiue land. 
And like a quene returne with victorie 

Home to her spouse, her parentes, and children, 760 

Folowed with a traine of Troyan maides, 
And serued with a band of Phrigian slaues ; 
And Priam eke with iron murdred thus. 
And Troy town consumed all with flame, 

Whoes shore hath ben so oft f orbathed in blood ? 765 

No ! no ! for though on women the reuenge 
Unsemely is, such conquest hath no fame. 
To geue an end vnto such mischief yet 
My iust reuenge shal merit worthy praise ; 

And quiet eke my minde for to be wroke 770 

On her which was the causer of this flame, 
And satisfie the cinder of my feers.' 

With furious minde while T did argue thus. 
My blessed mother then appeard to me. 

Whom erst so bright mine eyes had neuer seen, 775 

And with pure light she glistred in the night. 
Disclosing her in forme a goddesse like, 
As she doth seme to such as dwell in heuen. 
My right hand then she took and held it fast. 

And with her rosie lips thus did she say: 780 

'Son, what furie hath thus prouoked thee 
To such vntamed wrath? what ragest thow? 
Or where is now become the care of vs ? 
Wilt thow not first go see where thow hast left 
Anchises, thy father fordone with age? 785 



Transi^ations From the ^neid 115 

Doth Creusa Hue, and Ascanius thy son ? 

Whom now the Grekish bands haue round beset, 

And were they not defensed by my cure, 

Flame had them raught and enmies swerd ere this. 

Not Helens beautie hatefull vnto thee, 790 

Nor blamed Paris yet, but the gods wrath 

Reft yow this wealth, and ouerthrew your town. 

Behold, — and I shall now the cloude remoue. 

Which ouercast thy mortal sight doth dim, 

Whoes moisture doth obscure all thinges about ; 795 

And fere not thow to do thy mothers will, 

Nor her aduise refuse thow to performe — 

Here, where thow seest the turrets ouerthrown, 

Stone bet from stone, smoke rising mixt with dust, 

Neptunus there shakes with his mace the walks 800 

And eke the loose foundations of the same. 

And ouerwhelms the whole town from his seat. 

And cruell luno with the f ormest here 

Doth kepe the gate that Scea cleped is, 

Nere wood for wrath, whereas she standes, and calls 805 

In harnesse bright the Grekes out of their ships. 

And in the turrets hye behold where standes 

Bright shining Pallas, all in warlike wede. 

And with her shield, where Gorgons lied apperes. 

And lupiter, ni}^ father, distributes - 810 

Auayling strength and courage to the Grekes; 

Yet ouermore, against the Troyan powr 

He doth prouoke the rest of all the gods. 

Flee then, my son, and geue this trauail end; 

Ne shall I thee forsake, in sauegard till 815 

I haue thee brought vnto thy fathers gate.' 

This did she say and therwith gan she hide 

Her self in shadow of the close night. 

Then dredfull figures gan appere to me, 
And great gods eke agreued with our town. 820 

I saw Troye fall down in burning gledes ; 
Neptunus town, clene razed from the soil. 
Like as the elm forgrown in mountaines hye, 
Rond hewen with axe, that husbandmen 

With thick assaultes striue to teare vp, doth threat ; 825 

And hackt beneath trembling doth bend his top, 
Till yold with strokes, geuing the latter crack, 
Rent from the heighth, with ruine it doth fall. 



116 The; Poems of Surrey 

With this I went, and guided by a god 
I passed through my foes, and eke the flame; 830 

Their wepons and the fire eke gaue me place. 
And when that I was come before the gates 
And auncient building of my fathers house, 
My father, whom I hoped to conuey 

To the next hils and did him thearto treat, 835 

Refused either to prolong his life, 
Or bide exile after the fall of Troy. 
'All ye', quod he, 'in whom yong blood is fresh. 
Whose strength remaines entier and in ful powi 

Take ye your flight. 840 

For if the gods my life wold have proroged, 
They had reserued for me this wonning place. 
It was enough, alas ! and eke to much. 
To see the town of Troy thus razed ones ; 

To have liued after the citee taken. 845 

When ye haue sayd, this corps layd out forsake ; 
My hand shall seke my death, and pitie shal 
Mine enmies moue, or els hope of my spoile. 
As for my graue, I wey the losse but light. 

For I my yeres, disdainfull to the gods, 850 

Haue lingred fourth, vnable to all nedes. 
Sins that the sire of gods and king of men 
Strake me with thonder and with leuening blast.' 
Such things he gan reherse, thus firmly bent. 

But we besprent with teres, my tender son, 855 

And eke my swete Creusa, with the rest 
Of the houshold, my father gan beseche 
Not so with him to perish all at ones, 
Nor so to yeld vnto the cruel fate ; 
Which he refused, and stack to his entent. 860 

Driuen I was to harnesse then againe. 
Miserably my death for to desire. 
For what aduise or other hope was left? 
'Father ! thoughtst thow that I may ones remoue,' 

Quod I, 'a f oote, and leaue thee here behinde ? 865 

May such a wrong passe from a fathers mouth? 
If gods will be that nothing here be saued 
Of this great town, and thy minde bent to ioyne 
Both thee and thine to ruine of this town. 

The way is plaine this death for to atteine. 870 

Pyrrhus shall come besprent with Priams blood. 
That gored the son before the fathers face 



Translations From the .•^neid 117 

And slew the father at the altar eke. 

O sacred mother ! was it then for this 

That you me led through flame and wepons sharp, 875 

That I might in my secret chaumber see 

Mine enmies ; and Ascanius my son, 

My father, with Creusa my swete wife, 

Murdred, alas ! the one in thothers blood ? 

Why, seruants, then, bring my my armes againe; 880 

The latter day vs vanquished doth call. 

Render me now to the Grekes sight againe. 

And let me see the fight begon of new ; 

We shall not all vnwroken dye this day.'' 

About me then I girt my sword again, 885 

And eke my shield on my left sholder cast, 
And bent me so to rush out of the house. 

Lo ! in my gate my spouse, clasping my feet, 

Foregainst his father yong lulus set. 

'If thow wilt go,' quod she, 'and spill th}^ self, 890 

Take vs with thee in all that may betide. 

But as expert if thow in armes haue set 

Yet any hope, then first this house defend, 

Whearas thy son, and eke thy father dere, 

And I, somtime thine owne dere wife, ar left.' 895 

Her shrill loud voice with plaint thus filled the house, 

When that a sodein monstrous maruel fell. 

For in their sight, and woefull parents armes. 

Behold a light out of the butten sprang 

That in tip of lulus cap did stand ; 900 

With gentle touch whoes harmlesse flame did shine 

Upon his here, about his temples spred. 

And we afraid, trembling for dredfull fere, 

Bet out the fire from his biasing, tresse. 

And with, water gan quench the sacred flame. 905 

Anchises glad his eyen lift to the sterres; 

With handes his voice to heauen thus he bent : 

'If by praier, almighty lupiter, 

Inclined thou mayst be, beholde vs then 

Of ruth at least; if we so much deserue, 910 

Graunt eke thin^e ayd, father, confirm this thing.' 
Scarse had the old man said, when that the heuens 

With sodein noise thondred on the left hand ; 

Out of the skie, by the dark night there fell 

A biasing sterre, dragging a brand or flame, 915 

Which, with much light gliding on the housetop. 



118 The Poems of Surrey 

In the forest of Ida hid her beames ; 

The which, full bright cendleing a furrow, shone. 

By a long tract appointing vs the way; 

And round about of brimstone rose a fume. 920 

My father vanquist, then beheld the skies. 
Spake to the gods, and tholly sterre adored : 
'Now, now,' quod he, 'no longer I abide ; 
Folow I shall where ye me guide at hand. 

O native gods ! your familie defend ; 925 

Preserue your line. This warning comes of you. 
And Troy stands in your protection now. 
Now geue I place, and wherso that thow goe, 
Refuse I not, my sonne, to be thy feer.' 

This did he say; and by that time more clere 930 

The cracking flame was heard throughout the walles, 
And more and more the burning heat drew nere. 
'Why then, haue done, my father dere,' quod I, 
'Bestride my neck fourthwith, and sit thereon, 

And I shal with my sholders thee susteine, 935 

Ne shal this labor do me any dere. 
What so betide, come perill, come welfare. 
Like to vs both and common there shal be. 
Yong lulus shall beare me company. 

And my wife shal follow far of my steppes. 940 

Now ye, my seruantes, mark well what I say : 
Without the town ye shall find, on an hill. 
An old temple there standes, wheras somtime 
Worship was don to Ceres the goddesse ; 

Biside which growes an aged cipresse tree, 945 

Preserued long by our forefathers zele. 
Behind which place let vs together mete. 
And thou, father, receiue into thy handes 
The reliques all, and the gods of the land. 

The which it were not lawfuU I should touch, 950 

That come but late from slaughter and blodshed. 
Till I be washed in the running flood.' 

When I had sayd these wordes, my sholders brode 
And laied neck with garmentes gan I spred. 

And theron cast a yellow lions skin ; 955 

And therupon my burden I receiue. 
Yong lulus, clasped in my right hand, 
Followeth me fast with vnegal pace ; 
And at my back my wife. Thus did we passe 
By places shadowed most with the night. 960 



TransIvATions From the ^neid 119 

And me, whom late the dart which enemies threw 

Nor preasse of Argiue routes could not amaze, 

Eche whispring wind hath power now to fray 

And euery sound to moue my doutfull mind. 

So much I dred my burden and my feer. 965 

And now we gan draw nere vnto the gate, 
Right well escapte the daunger, as me thought, 
When that at hand a sound of feet we heard. 
My father then, gazing throughout the dark. 

Cried on me, 'Flee, son ! they ar at hand.' 970 

With that bright sheldes and shene armours I saw. 
But then, I knowe not what vnfrendly god 
My trobled wit from me biraft for fere. 
For while I ran by the most secret stretes, 

Eschuing still the common haunted track, 975 

From me catif, alas ! bereued was 
Creusa then, my spouse — I wote not how. 
Whether by fate, or missing of the way, 
Or that she was by werinesse reteind. 

But neuer sithe these eies might her behold; — 980 

Nor did I yet perceiue that she was lost, 
Ne neuer backward turned I my mind. 
Till we came to the hill wheras there stood 
The old temple dedicate to Ceres. 

And when that we were there assembled all, 985 

She was only away, deceiuing vs. 
Her spouse, her son, and all her compainie. 
What god or man did I not then accuse, 
Nere wood for ire, or what more cruell chaunce 

Did hap to me, in all Troies ouerthrow ? 990 

Ascanius to my feeres I then betoke. 
With Anchises, and eke the Troian gods, 
And left them hid within a valley depe. 
And to the town I gan me hye againe. 

Clad in bright armes, and bent for to renew 995 

Auentures past, to search throughout the town. 
And yeld my hed to perils ones againe. 

And first the walles and dark entrie I sought 
Of the same gate wherat I issued out. 

Holding backward the steppes wher we had come 1000 

In the dark night, loking all round about. 
In euery place the vgsome sightes I saw ; 
The silence selfe of night agast my sprite. 
From hense againe I past vnto our house. 
If she bv chaunce had ben returned home. 1005 



120 The Poems of Surrey 

The Grekes were there, and had it all beset. 

The wasting fire blown vp by drift of wind 

Aboue the roofes, the blazing flame sprang vp, 

The sound wherof with furie pearst the skies. 

To Priams palace and the castel then 1010 

I made; and ther at lunous sanctuair, 

In the void porches, Pheniz, Ulisses eke, 

Sterne guardens stood, watching of the spoile. 

The richesse here were set, reft from the brent 

Temples of Troy : the table of the gods, 1015 

The vessells eke that were of massy gold. 

And vestures spoild, were gatherd all in heap. 

The children orderly, and mothers pale for fright. 

Long ranged on a rowe stode round about. 

So bold was I to showe my voice that night, 102C 

With clepes and cries to fill the stretes throughout, 
With Creuse name in sorrow, with vain teres. 
And often sithes the same for to repete. 
The town restlesse with furie as I sought, 

Thunlucky figure of Creusaes ghost, 1026 

Of stature more than wont, stood fore mine eyen. 
Abashed then I woxe ; therwith my heare 
Gan start right vp ; my voice stack in my throte. 
When with such words she gan my hart remoue : 

'What helps to yeld vnto such furious rage, 1030 

Swete spouse?' quod she. 'Without wil of the gods 
This chaunced not. Ne lefull was for thee 
To lead away Creusa hense with thee ; 
The king of the hye heuen suffreth it not. 

A long exile thou art assigned to here, 1035 

Long to furrow large space of stormy seas ; 
So shalt thou reach at last Hesperian land, 
Wher Lidian Tiber with his gentle streme 
Mildly doth flow along the frutfull felds. 

There mirthful wealth, there kingdom is for thee; 1040 

There a kinges child preparde to be thy make. 
For thy beloued Creusa stint thy teres. 
For now shal I not see the proud abodes 
Of Myrmidons, nor yet of Dolopes, 

Ne I, a Troyan lady, and the wife 1045 

Unto the sonne of Uenus, the goddesse, 
Shall goe a slaue to serue the Grekish dames. 
Me here the gods great mother holdes. 
And now farwell, and kepe in fathers brest 
The tender loue of thy yong son and myne.' 1050 



Translations From thk ^^neid 121 

This hauing said, she left me all in teres 
And minding much to speake ; but she was gone, 
And suttly fled into the weightlesse aire. 
Thrise raught I with mine armes taccoll her neck, 
Thrise did my handes vaine hold thimage escape, 1055 

Like nimble windes, and like the flieng dreame. 
So night spent out, returne I to my feers. 
And ther wondring I find together swarmd 
A new nomber of mates, mothers, and men, 

A rout exiled, a wreched multitude, 1060 

From eche where flockke together, prest to passe, 
With-hart and goods, to whatsoeuer land 
By sliding seas me listed them to lede. 
And now rose Lucifer aboue the ridge 

Of lusty Ide, and brought the dawning light. 1065 

The Grekes held thentries of the gates beset ; 
Of help there was no hope. Then gaue I place, 
Toke vp my sire, and hasted to the hill." 



122 The Poems of Surrey 



58 
Book 4 

(Tottel's Version of 1557) 

But now the wounded queue, with heuy care, 

Throughout the veines she norisheth the playe, 

Surprised with Wind flame ; and to hir mind 

Gan eke resort the prowesse of the man 

And honour of his race ; while in her brest 5 

Imprinted stack his wordes and pictures forme; 

Ne to her limmes care graunteth quiet rest. 

The next morrow, with Phebus laump the earth 
Alightned clere, and eke the dawning day 

The shadowes dark gan from the poale remoue, 10 

When, all vnsound, her sister of like minde 
Thus spake she to: "O sister Ann, what dreames 
Be these, that me tormented thus afray? 
What new guest is this, that to our realme is come ; 
What one of chere ; how stout of hart in armes ? 15 

Truly I think, ne vaine is m}^ belefe, 
Of goddish race some offspring shold he be: 
Cowardry notes hartes swarued out of kind. 
He driuen. Lord ! with how hard destiny ; 

What battailes eke atchiued did he recount ! 20 

But that my mind is fixt vnmoueably 
Neuer with wight in wedlock ay to ioyne, 
Sith my first loue me left by death disseuered. 
If geniall brands and bed me lothed not. 

To this one gilt perchaunce yet might I yeld. 25 

Anne, for I graunt, sith wretched Sichees death 
My spouse and house with brothers slaughter staind, 
This onely man hath made my sences bend 
And pricked foorth the mind that gan to slide: 

Now feelingly I tast the steppes of mine old flame. 30 

But first I wish the earth me swalow down. 
Or with thunder the mighty Lord me send 
To the pale gostes of hel and darknes deepe, 
Ere I thee staine, shamefastnes, or thy lawes. 

He that with me first coppled, tooke away 35 

My loue with him; enjoy it in his graue". 



TransIvATions Fro^i thk /Eneid 123 



58 

Book 4 

(Version based upon Ms. Har grave 205) 

But now the wounded queue, with heavie care, 

Throwgh owt the vaines doth nowrishe ay ye plage. 

Surprised with bUnd flame ; & to her minde 

Gan to resort the prowes of the man. 

And honour of his race ; whiles in her brest 5 

Imprinted stake his wordes & forme of face ; 

Ne to her lymmes care graunteth quiet rest. 

The next morowe, with Phoebus lampe the erthe 
Ylightned clere, & eke the dawninge daye 

The shadowe danke gan from the pole remove, 10 

When, all vnsownd, her sister of like minde 
Thus spake she to: "Oh sister, what dremes 
Be these that me tormenten thus afraide? 
What newcome gest vnto our realme ys come ; 

What one of chere ; how stowt of hart in armes ? 15 

Truelie I thinke, ne vaine ys my beleife. 
Of goddishe race some of springe shuld he seeme: 
Cowardie noteth hartes swarved owt of kinde. 
He driven. Lord ! with how hard destinie ; 

What battells eke atcheived did he tell! 20 

& but my mind war fixt vnmovablie 
Never with wight in weddlocke for to joine, 
Sithe my first love me lefte by deth disseverid, 
Yf bridall bowndes & bed me lothed not, 

To this one fawlt perchaunce yet might I yeld. 2^ 

For I wyll graunt, sithe wretched Syches dethe 
My spouse & howse with brother slaughter stand, 
This onelie man hath made my senses bend 
& pricketh furthe the minde that gan to slide : 

Felenglie I tast the steppes of mine old flame. 30 

But first I wishe the erth me swallowe downe. 
Or with thunder the mightie Lord me send 
To the pale gostes of hell and darkness depe. 
Or I the stayne, shamefastnes, or thi lawes. 

He that with me first coopled, tooke awaie 35 

My love, which still enioye he in his grave." 



124 The Poems of Surrey 

Thus did she say, and with supprised teares 
Bained her brest. Wherto Anne thus replied: 
"O sister, dearer beloued then the lyght, 

Thy youth alone in plaint still wilt thou spill ? 40 

Ne children sweete, ne Venus giftes wilt know? 
Cinders, thinkest thou, mind this, or graued ghostes? 
Time of thy doole, thy spouse new dead, I graunt 
None might the moue: no, not the Libian king, 

Nor yet of Tire ; larbas set so light, 45 

And other princes mo, whom the rich soile 
Of Affrick breedes, in hounours triumphant. 
Wilt thou also gainstand thy liked loue? 
Comes not to mind vpon whoes land thou dwelst ? 
On this side, loe ! the Getule town behold, 50 

A people bold, vnuanquished in warre ; 
Eke the vndaunted Numides compasse thee; 
Also the Sirtes vnfrendly harbroughe. 
On thother hand, a desert realme for thurst. 

The Barceans, whose fury stretcheth wide. 55 

What shall I touch the warres that moue from Tire, 
Or yet thy brothers threates? 
By gods purueiaunce it blewe, and lunos helpe, 
The Troiaynes shippes, I think, to runn this course. 
Sister, what town shalt thou see this become? 60 

Throgh such allie how shal our kingdom rise. 
And by the aid of Troiane armes how great? 
How many waies shal Cartages glorie grow? 
Thou onely now besech the gods of grace 

By sacrifice. Which ended, to thy house 65 

Receue him, and forge causes of abode ; 
Whiles winter frettes the seas, and watry Orion, 
The shippes shaken, vnfrendly the season". 

Such words enflamed the kindled mind with loue. 
Loosed al shame, and gave the doubt full hope. 70 

And to the temples first they hast and seeke 
By sacrifice for grace, with hogxeles of two yeares 
Chosen, as ought, to Ceres that gaue lawes. 
To Phebus, Bachus, and to luno chiefe. 

Which hath in care the bandes of mariage. 75 

Faire Dido held in her right hand the cup. 
Which twixt the homes of a white cowe she shed 
In presence of the gods, passing before 
The aulters fatte; which she renewed oft 
With giftes that day and beastes debowled, 80 



TransIvATions From the .^neid 125 

Thus did she saye, & with surprised teares 
Bayned her brest. Whereto thus An rephed: 
"O sister more beloved then the Hght, 

Thi youth all sole in plaintes wilt thow nedes spill? 40 

Ne children swete, ne Venus giftes wilt knowe? 
Cindres, thinkest thow, minde this, or graved ghostes ? 
Time of thie dole, thi spouse new dedd, I graunt 
None might the moue ; larbas not to fere. 

The Libian king dispised eke by the, 45 

& other princes moe, whom the riche soyle 
Of Aefrike bredes, in honours tryvmphant. 
Wilt thow allso withstand the loue that likes the? 
Come not to minde vpon whose land thow dwelst? 
On this syde, loe ! the Getule towns behold, 50 

A people bold, vnvanquished in warr; 
Eke the vndaunted Numides compas the ; 
Allso the Syrtes vnfrindlie harboroughes. 
On tother hand the desert realme of Scythe, 

The Barceans, whose furie stretcheth wide. 55 

What shall I touch the wars that moue from Tyre, 
Or yet thie brothers threates? 
By godes purveiaunce yt blue, & Junos helpe. 
The Troiane shippes, I thinke, to rounne this course. 
Sister, what towne shalt thow se this become? 60 

Throwgh such alie how shall our kingdome rise, 
& by the ayde of Troiane armes how great? 
How manie waies shall Carthage glorie growe? 
Thow onelie now beseke the godes of grace 

By sacrifice. Which ended, to thie howse 65 

Receave him, & forge causes of abode ; 
Whiles winter freates the seas, & watrie Orion, 
The shippes shaken, vnfrindlie the season." 

Such wordes inflamde the kindled hart with love, 
Lewsed all shame, & gaue the dowtfull hope. 70 

& to the temples fyrst thei hast & seke 
By sacrifice for grace, with hogreles of two yeares 
Chosen, as owght, to Coeres that gaue lawes, 
To Phoebus, Bacchus, & to Juno cheif. 

Which hath in care the bandes of mariage. 75 

Fair Dido held in her right hand the cupp. 
Which twixt the homes of a white cowe she shedd 
In presence of the godes, passing before 
The aultres tall, which she renued ofte 
With giftes that daye & bestes deboweled, 80 



126 The; Poems of* Surrey 

Casing for counsell on the entrales warme. 

Ay me, vnskilfull mindes of prophesy ! 

Temples or vowes, what boote they in her rage? 

A gentle flame the mary doth deuoure, 

Whiles in the brest the silent wound keepes life. 85 

Unhappy Dido burns, and in her rage 

Throughout the town she wandreth vp and down ; 

Like to the striken hinde with shaft in Crete, 

Throughout the woods, which, chasing with his dartes, 

Aloofe, the shepheard smiteth at vnwares, 90 

And leaves vnwist in her the thirling head. 

That through the groues and landes glides in her flight, 

Amid whose side the mortall arrow stickes. 

Aeneas now about the walles she leades. 
The town prepared and Cartage welth to shew ; 95 

Offring to speak, amid her voice, she whistes. 
And when the day gan f aile, new f eastes she makes ; 
The Troies trauales to heare anew she listes, 
Inraged al, and stareth in his face 

That tels the tale. And when they were al gone, 100 

And the dimme mone doth eft withold the light. 
And sliding starres prouoked vnto sleepe. 
Alone she mournes within her palace voide. 
And sets her down on her forsaken bed. 

And absent him she heares, when he is gone, lOS 

And seeth eke. Oft in her lappe she holdes 
Ascanius, trapt by his fathers forme, 
So to begile the loue cannot be told. 

The turrettes now arise not, erst begonne ; 
Neither the youth weldes armes, nor they auaunce 110 

The portes, nor other mete defence for warr. 
Broken there hang the workes and mighty frames 
Of walles high raised, threatening the skie. 
Whom as soone as loues deare wife saw infect 
With such a plage, ne fame resist the rage, 115 

Saturnes daughter thus burdes Venus then : 
"Great praise", quod she, "and worthy spoiles you win. 
You and your son, great gods of memory, 
By both your wiles one woman to deuower. 

Yet am I not deceiued, that foreknew 120 

Ye dread our walles ?,nd bildinges gan suspect 
Of high Cartage. But what shalbe the ende? 



Translations From the: ^neid 127 

Casing for cownsell on the thentrailes warme. 

Ay me, vnskillfull myndes of prophetise! 

Alas, blind mindes of prophetes ! what avayle 

Temples or vowes, what booten thei in rage? 

A gentle flame the marie doth devower, 85 

Whiles in the brest the sylent wound kepth life. 

Vnhappi Dido burnes, & in her rage 

Throwgh owt the towne she wandreth vp & downe ; 

Like to the stiyken hinde with shafte in Crete, 

Throwgh owt the woodes, which, chasing with his dartes, 90 

Aloofe, the shepard smyteth at vnwares, 

& leaves vnwiste in her the thirling hedd. 

That throwgh the groves & laundes glides in her flight, 

Amidd whose syde the mortall arrowe stykes. 

Aeneas now abowt the walls she leades, 95 

The towne preparde & Carthage welth to shov^^e ; 
Offring to speake, amidd her voice, she whistes. 
& when the daye gan fayle, new feastes she makes ; 
The Troiane travailes to here anew she listes. 

Enraged all, & stareth in his face 100 

That tells the tale. And when thei war all gone, 
& the dymme moone repressed the dale light, 
& slidinge sterres provoked vnto slepe, 
Alone she moornth within her palaice voide, 

& settes her downe on her for saken bedd, 105 

& absent him she heres,when he is gone, 
& seithe eke. Ofte in her lappe she holds 
Askanius, trapte by his fathers fourme. 
To proue if she might so beguile her loue. 

The turretes now arise not, erst begoune; 110 

Nether the youth weeldes armes, nor they avaunce 
The port, nor other mete defence for warr. 
Broken thei hang, the workes & mightie frames 
Of walls hie raised, sthretching to the skie. 

Whom as soone as loves dere wife saw infect 115 

With such a plague, ne fame resist the rage, 
Saturnus dowghter bourdes thus with Venus than : 
"Great praise", quod she, "& worthie spoiles ye winne, 
You & your sonn, great godes of memorie. 

By bothe your wiles one woman to devower. 120 

Yet am I not deceyved, that foreknew 
Ye dredd our walles & buyldinges did suspect 
Of hie Carthage. But what shalbe the end? 



128 The Poems of Surrey 

Or wherunto now serueth such debate? 

But rather peace and bridale bandes knit we, 

Sith thou hast spede of that thy heart desired. 125 

Dido doth bume with loue, rage fretes her boones. 

This people now, as common to vs both, 

With equal fauour let vs gouerne then, 

Lefull be it to serue a Troian sprouse; 

And Tirianes yeld to thy right hand in drowre." 130 

To whom Venus replied thus, that knewe 

Her wordes proceded from a fained minde, 

To Libian coastes to turne thempire from Rome: 

"What wight so fond such offer to refuse? 

Or yet with thee had leuer striue in warr? 135 

So be it fortune thy tale bring to effect. 

But destinies I dout, least loue nill graunt 

That folke of Tire, and such as came from Troie, 

Should hold one town ; or graunt these nacions 

Mingled to be, or ioyned ay in leage. 140 

Thou art his wife; lefull it is for the 

For to attempt his fansie by request. 

Passe on before and folow the I shall". 

Queue Juno then thus tooke her tale againe : 
"This trauaile be it mine. But by what meane, 145 

Marke, in fewe wordes I shal thee lerne eftsones, 
This worke in hand may now be compassed. 
Aeneas nowe, and wretched Dido eke, 
To the forest a hunting minde to wende 

To morne, as soon as Titan shall ascend, 150 

And with his beames hath ouerspred the world. 
And whiles the winges of youth do swarm about. 
And whiles they raunge to ouer set the groues, 
A cloudie showr, mingled with haile, I shall 

Poure down, and then with thonder shake the skies. 155 

Thassemble scattered, the mist shall cloke. 
Dido a caue, the Troyan prince the same 
shall enter to, and I will be at hand. 
And if thy will sticke vnto mine, I shall 

In wedlocke sure knit and make her his own: 160 

Thus shall the maryage be." To whose request 
Without debate Venus did seme to yeld. 
And smyled soft, as she that found the wyle. 
Then from the seas the dawning gan arise. 



Translations From the, ^neid 129 

Or whervnto now serveth such debate? 

But rather peace & brydall bondes knitt we, 125 

Syth thow hast spedd of that thie hart desyred. 

Dido doth burne, the rage her bones doth perse. 

The people now then common to vs bothe; 

With egall favour so lett vs governe them. 

Lefull be it to serve a Troiane spouse; 130 

& Tyrians yeld to thie right hand in dower." 

To whom Venus replied thus, that knew 
Her wordes proceded from a fayned minde, 
To Lybian costes to turne the prince from Rome : 
"What wight so fond such offer to refuse? 135 

Or yet with the had lever lyve in warr? 
So be it fortune thi tale bring to effect. 
But destenies I dowte, lest Jove will graunt 
That folke of Tyer, & such as came from Troie, 
Shuld hold one towne ; or graunt these nations l^WD 

Mingled to be, or joined aye in league. 
Thow art his wief ; lefull yt is for the 
For to attempt his fancie by request. 
Passe on before & followe the I shall." 

Queue Juno then tooke thus her tale againe : 145 

"This travaile be yt mine. But by what meane, 
Marke, in few wordes I shall the lerne eftsones. 
This work in hand male now be compassed. 
Aeneas now, & wretched Dido eke. 

The forest till a hunting minde to wend 150 

The morow, as soone as Titan shall ascend, 
& with his beames hath overspredd the erth. 

******** 

& whiles the range doth sett the groues about, 

A clowdie shower, mingled with haile, I shall 155 

Pooer down, & then with thunder shake the skie*^ 

The assembles skattered, the mistes shall cloke. 

Dido the cave, the Troiane prince the same 

Shall enter too, & I wilbe at hand. 

& if thie will sticke vnto mine, I shall 160 

In weddlocke suer knitt, & make her his owne : 

This shall the mariage be." To whose request 

Without debate Venus did seeme to graunt, 

& smyled softe, as she that fownd the wile. 

Then from the sea the dawning gan arise. 165 



130 The Poems of Surrey 

The sun once vp, the chosen youth gan throng 165 

Out of the gates: the hayes so rarely knit, 

The hunting staues with their brod heads of Steele, 

And of Masile the horsemen, fourth they brake; 

Of senting houndes a kenel hugh likewise. 

And at the threshold of her chaumber dore 170 

The Carthage lords did on the quene attend ; 

The trampling steede, with gold and purple trapt, 

Chawing the fomie bit, there fercely stood. 

Then issued she, awayted with great train. 

Clad in a cloke of Tyre embradred riche. 175 

Her quyuer hung behinde her backe, her tresse 

Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke 

Butned with gold. The Troyans of her train 

Before her go, with gladsom lulus. 

Aeneas eke, the goodliest of the route, 180 

Makes one of them, and ioyneth close the throngs. 

Like when Apollo leaueth Lycia, 

His wintring place, and Xanthus floods likewise, 

To viset Delos, his mothers mansion. 

Repairing eft, and furnishing her quire, 185 

The Candians and folkes of Driopes, 

With painted Agathyrsies, shoute and crye, 

Enuironing the alters roundabout, 

When that he walks vpon mount Cynthus top. 

His sparkled tresse represt with garlandes soft 190 

Of tender leaues, and trussed vp in gold, 

His quiuering dartes clattring behinde his back: 

So fresh and lustie did Aeneas seme. 

Such lordly port in present countenaunce. 

But to the hils and wilde holtes when they came, 195 

From the rocks top the driuen sauage rose. 

Loe! from the hill aboue, on thother side, 

Through the wyde lawnds they gan to take their course. 

The harts likewise, in troupes taking their flight, 

Raysing the dust, the mountain fast forsake. 200 

The childe lulus, blithe of his swift steede, 

Amids the plain now pricks by them, now thes, 

And to encounter wisheth oft in minde 

The foming bore, in steede of fere full beasts, 

Or lion brown might from the hill descend. 205 

In the meane while the skies gan rumble sore; 

In tayle thereof a mingled showr with hayle. 



Translations From the ^neid 131 

The son hoist vp, the chosen youth gan throng 

Vnto the gates : the hayes so rarehe knitt, 

The hunting staves with ther brode heddes of yron, 

& of Massile the horsemen, furth thei breke ; 

Of senting howndes a kennell huge Hkewise. 170 

& at the thressolde of her chamber dore 

The Carthage lordes did on ther queue awaite ; 

The trampling steed, with gold & purple deckt, 

Feirslie stood chawing on the fominge bitt. 

Then issued she, awaited with a trayne, 175 

Clad in a cloke of Tyre bordred full rich. 

Her quyver hong behind her backe, her tresse 

Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke 

Butned with gold. The Troianes of her trayne 

Before her go, with gladsome lulus. 180 

Aeneas eke, the goodliest of the rowt, 

Makes one of them & ioyneth close the thronges. 

Like when Apollo leaveth L,icia, 

His wintring place, & Xanthus fluddes likewise, 

To se Delos, his mothers mansion, 185 

For to repayer & fumishe new her quyer, 

The Cretians & folke of Driopes, 

& painted Agathirth, do howle & crie, 

Environninge the aulters rownd abowt. 

When that he walkes vpon mownt Cynthus topp, 190 

His sparkled tresse represt with garlandes softe 

Of tender bowes, & tressed vp in golde, 

His quyver dartes clattringe behind his backe : 

So freshe & lustie did Aeneas seme, 

Such lordlie port in cowntinance dothe showe. 195 

But to the hills & wilde holtes when thei came, 
From the rockes toppe the wild savage rooes 
Availe the hill, & on the other syde. 
Over the laundes, thei gan to take ther course. 

The hartes likewise, in troopes taking ther flight, 200 

Raising the dust, the mountaynes fast forsoke. 
The child lulus, blithe of his swofte steed, 
Amides the playne now prickes by them, now these, 
& to encounter wisheth ofte in minde 

The foming bore, in stedd of ferefull beastes, 205 

Or lyon browne might from the hill discend. 

In the meane while the heavens gan romble sore ; 
In tayle wher of a mingled shower with haile. 



132 The Poems of Surrey 

The Tyrian folk, and eke the Troyans youth, 

And Venus nephew the cotage, for feare. 

Sought round about; the floods fell from the hils. 210 

Dido a den, the Troyan prince the same, 

Chaunced vpon. Our mother then, the earth, 

And luno that hath charge of mariage. 

First tokens gaue with burning gledes of flame, 

And, priuie to the wedlock, lightning skies; 215 

And the nymphes yelled from the mountains top. 

Ay me ! this was the first day of their mirth, 
And of their harmes the first occasion eke. 
Respect of fame no longer her withholdes. 

Nor museth now to frame her loue by stelth. 220 

Wedlock she cals it ; vnder the pretence 
Of which fay re name she cloketh now her faut. 
Forthwith Fame flieth through the great Libian towns ; 
A mischefe Fame — there is none els so swift — 

That mouing, growes ; and flitting, gathers force. 225 

First small for dred, sone after climes the skies, 
Stayeth on earth, and hides her hed in cloudes. 
Whom our mother the earth, tempted by wrath 
Of gods, begat ; the last sister — they write^ — 

To Caeus, and to Enceladus eke ; 23(1 

Spedie of foote, of wyng likewise as swift; 
A monster huge, and dredfull to descriue: 
In euery plume that on her body sticks — 
A thing in dede much maruelous to heare — 

As many waker eyes lurk vnderneath, 235 

So many mouthes to speake, and listning eares. 
By night she flies amid the cloudie skie, 
Shriking, by the dark shadow of the earth, 
Ne doth decline to the swete sleepe her eyes. 

By day she sits to mark on the house top, 240 

Or turrents hye, and the great towns afraies. 
As mindefull of yll and lyes as biasing truth. 
This monster blithe with many a tale gan sow 
This rumor then into the common eares. 

As well things don, as that was neuer wrought: 245 

As, that there comen is to Tyrians court 
Aeneas, one outspong of Troyan blood, 
To whom fair Dido wold her self be wed ; 
And that, the while, the winter long they passe 



Translations From the; ^^neid 133 

The Tirian folke & skattred Troiane youth 

& Venus nevew the cottages for fere 210 

Sought rownd about ; the f Kiddes fell from the hills. 

Queue Dido, with the Troiane prince alone, 

Chanst on a denn. Our mother then, the erth, 

& Juno that hath charge of mariage, 

First tokens gave with burning gledes of flame, 215 

&, previe to the weddlocke, lightning skies ; 

& the nymphes wayled from the mountaynes toppe. 

Aye me ! this was the foremost daye of myrthe, 
& of mischief the first occasion eke. 

Respect of fame no lenger her with holdes, 220 

Ne museth she to frame her loue be stelth. 
Wedlock she calls it ; vnder the pretence 
Of which faier name she cloketh now her fault. 

Furthwith Fame flies throwgh the greet Libian townes ; 
A mischief Fame — ther is none ells so swifte — 225 

That moving, growes ; & flitting, gethers strength. 
First small to dredd, soone after climes the skies, 
Percing the erth, & hides her hedd in clowdes. 
Whom our mother the erth, tempted by wrathe 

Of godes, begat; the last sister — thei write — 230 

To Caeus and Inceladus. 

Speedie of foote, of wing likewise right swifte; 
A monster thing & dreddfull to behold : 
For everie plume that on her bodie stickes 

As manie waker eies lurke vnderneth ; 235 

A thing in deed much mervaylous to here. 
So manie mowthes to speke, & listning eares. 
By night she flieth amidd the clowdie skie, 
Shriking, by the darke shadowe of the erth, 

Ne once her eies to swete slepe doth encline. 240 

By daye she sittes to marke on the howse toppes 
Or turrettes hie, & the great townes she frayes, 
Mindfull of yll & lies as biasing truth. 
This monster blith with manie a tale gan sowe 

This rumor then into the common eares, 245 

As well thinges done as that was never wrought: 
As, that there comen is to Tyrians court 
Aeneas, that of Troiane bludd is sprong. 
To whom faier Dido wold her self be wedd; 
In natures lustes the winter for to passe, 250 



134 The; Poems of Surrey 

In foule delight, forgetting charge of reigne, 250 

Led against honour with vnhonest lust. 

This in eche mouth the filthie goddesse spreds, 
And takes her course to king Hiarbas straight; 
Kindling his minde, with tales she feedes his wrath. 
Gotten was he by Amnion lupiter 255 

Upon the rauisht nimph of Garamant. 
An hundred hugie, great temples he built 
In his farre stretching realmes to lupiter ; 
Altars as many kept with waking flame, 

A watche alwayes vpon the gods to tend; 260 

The floores embrude with yelded blood of beastes, 
And threshold spred with garlands of strange hue. 
He, wood of minde, kindled by bitter brute, 
Tofore thaltars, in presence of the gods. 
With reared hands gan humbly loue entreate: 265 

"Almighty God ! whom the Moores nacion, 
Fed at rich tables, presenteth with wine, 
Seest thou these things? or feare we thee in vaine. 
When thou lettest flye thy thonder from the cloudes? 
Or do those flames with vaine noyse vs affray ? 270 

A woman that wandring in our coastes hath bought 
A plot for price, where she a citie set ; 
To whom we gaue the strond for to manure, 
And lawes to rule her town ; our wedlock lothed. 
Hath chose Aeneas to commaund her realme. 275 

That Paris now, with his vnmanly sorte. 
With mitred hats, with oynted bush and beard, 
His rape enioyth ; whiles to thy temples we 
Our offrings bring, and folow rumors vaine." 

Whom praing in such sort and griping eke 280 

The altars fast, the mighty father heard. 
And writhed his loke toward the royal walls 
And louers eke, forgetting their good name. 
To Mercurie then gaue he thus in charge : 

"Hense, son, in hast ! and call to thee the windes ! 285 

Slide with thy plumes and tell the Troyan prince, 
That now in Carthage loytreth, rechlesse 
Of the towns graunted him by desteny. 
Swift through the skies see thow these words conuey. 
His faire mother behight him not to vs 290 

Such one to be, ne therefore twyse him saued 
From Grekish arms, but such a one 



Transi,ations From the ^neid 135 



This in ech mowth the filthie goddes spredd, 
& takes her course to king larbas straight ; 
Kindhng his minde, with tales she fedd his wrathe. 
Gotten he was by Hammon Jupiter 255 

Vpon the ravisht Garamantida. 
An hundred temples in his realme he buylte,. 
An hundred aulters kepte with waker fyer, 
A watche allwaies on the goddes to attende ; 

The erth imbrued with yelded blood of bestes, 260 

& thresholdes spredd with garlandes strange of hew. 

He, wood of minde, kindled by bitter bruites, 

Fore the aultars, in presence of the godes. 

With reared handes gan humblie loue entreate: 

"Allmighti lord, whom the Moors nacion, 265 

Fede at riche tables, presenteth with wine, 

Seest thow these thinges ? or serue we the in vayne, 

When thow lettes fie the thunder from the clowdes, 

Whose flames oft chaunce with vaine noise vs af raye ? 

A wandring woman in our coostes hath bowght 270 

A plott for price, wher she a village sett ; 

To whom we gaue the strond for to manure, 

& lawes the towne to rule ; our weddlock lothe, 

Hath chose Aeneas to commaund her realmes. 

That Paris now, with his vnmanlie sorte, 2/5 

With mytred hattes, with oynted bushe & bearde. 

His rape inioyes; whiles to thie temple we 

Our offringes bring & hallowe rumours vayne." 
Whom prayeng in such sort & gryping eke 

The aulters fast, the mightie father harde, 280 

& wrythed his looke towardes the royall walls 

& lovers eke, forgetting ther good name. 

To Mercurie then gaue he thus in charge: 

"Hence, sonne, in hast ! & call to the the windes ! 

Slide with thie plumes & tell the Troiane prince, 285 

That now in Carthage loytreth reckleslie. 

Of the townes graunted him by destenie. 

Swifte throwgh the skies se thow these wordes reporte. 

His faire mother behight him not to vs 

Such one to be, ne therfor twise him savde 290 



136 The Poums op Surrey 

As mete might seme great Italic to rule, 

DreedfuU in arms, charged with seigniorie. 

Shewing in profe his worthy Teucrian race, ' 295 

And vnder lawes the whole world to subdue. 

If glorie of such things nought him enflame, 

Ne that he listes seke honour by som paine. 

The towers yet of Rome, being his sire, 

Doth he enuie to yong Ascanius? 30* J 

What mindeth he to frame? or on what hope 

In enmies land doth he make hys abode? 

Ne his of spring in Italie regardes? 

Ne yet the land of Lauin doth behold? 

Bid him make sayle ; haue here the sum and end. 305 

Our message thus report." When loue had sayd. 

Then Mercuric gan bend him to obey 

His mightie fathers will ; and to his heeles 

His golden wings he knits, which him transport 

With a light windc aboue the earth and seas. 310 

And then with him his wande he toke, whereby 

He calles from hell pale gostes, and other some 

Thether also he sendeth comfortlesse ; 

Wherby he f orceth sleepes, and then bereues ; 

And mortall eies he closeth vp in deth. 315 

By power wherof he driues the windes away. 

And passeth eke amid the troubled cloudes. 

Till in his flight he gan descrie the top 

And the stepe flankes of rocky Atlas hill, 

That with his crowne susteines the welkin vp; 320 

Whose head, forgrowen with pine, circled alway 

With misty cloudes, beaten with wind and storme; 

His shoulders spred with snow ; and from his chin 

The springes descend, his beard frozen with yse. 

Here Mercury with equal shinning winges 325 

First touched, and, with body headling bette. 

To the water thence tooke he his discent. 

Like to the foule that endlong costes and strondes. 

Swarming with fysh, flyes sweping by the sea. 

Cutting betwixt the windes and Libian landes, 330 

From his graundfather by the mothers side 

Cillenes child so came, and then alight 

Upon the houses with his winged feete. 

To fore the towers, wher he Aeneas saw 

Foundacions cast, arering lodges new, 335 

Girt with a sweard of iasper, starry bright ; 



Translations From the ^neid 137 

From Greekishe armes, but Italic to rule, 

Dreddfull in armes, & chargde with seigniorie. 

Discovering his worthie Tewcrine race, 

& vnder lawes the whole world to subdue. 

If glorie of such thinges nowght him enflame, 295 

Ne that he list seke honour by some payne, 

The turrettes yet of Eoome doth he envie, 

That is the father of Ascanius? 

What mindeth he to frame ? or by what hope 

In inmies land doth he make his abode? 300 

Ne his of spring in Italie regardes? 

Ne yet the lond of Lavine doth behold? 

Bidd him make sayle ; haue here the summ & ende. 

Our message thus report." When love had said, 

Then Mercuric gan bend him to obeye 305 

His mightic fathers will ; & to his hccles 

His golden winges he knittes, which him transport 

With a light winde aboue the erthe & sees. 

& then with him his wande he tooke, wherby 

He calls from hell pale ghostes, & other some 310 

Thither he sendeth allso comefortles ; 

Wherby he forcethe slepes & bereaves them ; 

& mortall eies he closethe vp in dethe. 

By pooer wherof he dryves the windes awaie, 

& passeth eke amidd the trowbled clowdes, 315 

Till in his flight he gan descriue the topp 

& steepie flankes of rockie Athlas hill, 

That with his crowne sustaines the welkin vp ; 

Whose hedd, forgrowen with pine, circled allwaie 

With mistie clowdes, beaten with winde & stormes ; 320 

His showlders spredd with snowe ; & from his chinn 

The springes discende, his herd frosen with yse. 

Here Mercuric with egall shininge winges 

Fyrst towched, &, with bodic heddlong bent, 

To the water thence took he his discent, 325 

Like to the fowle that endlonge coostes & strondes, 

Swarming with fishe, flies swymming by the sea. 

Cutting betwixt the windes & lyibian sandes, 

From his graundfather by the mothers syde 

The Cylen childe so came, & then alight 330 

Vpon the howses with his winged feete, 

Tofore the towers, wher he Aeneas saw 

Fowndacouns cast & rearinge buyldinges new, 

Gyrt with a sworde of iasper, starrie bright ; 



138 The: Poems of Surrey 

A shining parel, flameed with stately eie 

Of Tirian purple, hong his shoulders down, 

The gift and work of wealthy Didoes hand, 

Stripped throughout with a thin thred of gold. 340 

Thus he encounters him: "Oh careles wight. 
Both of thy realme, and of thine own affaires ; 
A wifebound man now dost reare the walles 
Of high Cartage, to build a goodly town? 

F'rom the bright skies the ruler of the gods 345 

Sent me to thee, that with his beck commaundes 
Both heuen and earth ; in hast he gaue me charge, 
Through the light aire this message thee to say: 
What f ramest thou ? or on what hope thy time 

In idlenes doth wast in Aftrick land? 350 

Of so great things if nought the fame thee stirr, 
Ne list by trauaile honour to pursue, 
Ascanus yet, that waxeth fast, behold, 
And the hope of lulus seede, thine heir. 

To whom the realme of Italy belonges 355 

And soile of Rome." When Mercury had said, 
Amid his tale, far of from mortall eies 
Into light aire he vanisht out of sight. 

Aeneas, with that vision striken down, 
Well nere bestraught, vpstart his heare for dread ; 360 

Amid his throtal his voice likewise gan stick. 
For to depart by night he longeth now. 
And the sweet land to leaue, astoined sore 
With this aduise and message of the gods. 

What may he do, alas ! or by what woordes 365 

Dare he persuade the raging queue in loue? 
Or in what sort may he his tale beginne? 
Now here, now there his recklesse minde gan run, 
And diuersly him drawes, discoursing all. 

After long doutes this sentence semed best : 370 

Mnesthus first, and strong Cloanthus eke, 
He calles to him, with Sergest ; vnto whom 
He gaue in charge his nauie secretly 
For to prepare, and driue to the sea coast 

His people, and their armour to addresse, 375 

And for the cause of change to faine excuse. 
And that he, when good Dido least foreknew 
Or did suspect so great a loue could break. 
Wold wait his time to speke therof most meete ; 
The nearest wav to hasten his entent. 380 



Translations From the ^neid 139 

Of Tyrian purple hynge his showldres downe 335 

His shininge pawle of mightie Didos gifte, 
Striped throwgh owt with a thinn threde of golde. 

Then thus he sayd : "Thow, that of highe Carthage 
Dost the fowndacouns laye to please thie wife, 

Raising on height a passing fayer citie ! 340 

But oh, for woe ; thine owne thinges owt of minde ! 
From the bright skies the ruler of the godes 
Sent me to the, which with his becke commaundes 
Both heaven & erth ; in hast he gaue me charge 

Throw the light ayer this message the to saye : 345 

What buildest thow, or by what hope thy time 
In idlenes thus wastes in Afrike land? 
Of so great thinges if not the fame the sturr, 
Ne lust by honour thie travaile to pursue, 

Ascanius yet, that thriveth fast, behold, 350 

& the hope of lulus seede, thine heire, 
To whom the realme of Italic belongeth 
& soyle of Rome." When Mercuric had said, 
Amid his tale, farr of from mortall eics 
Into Hght ayer he vanisht owt of sight. 355 

Aeneas, with that vision stryken downe. 
Well ner bestraught, vp start his herre for dred ; 
Amid his throte his voice likewise gan sticke. 
For to depart by flight he longeth now, 

& that swete land to leave, astonied sore 360 

By thadvice & message of the godes. 
What may he do, alas ! or by what wordes 
Dare he perswade the raging queue in loue? 
Or in what sort may he his tale begin? 

Whiles here, now ther his restles minde gan ronne, 365 

& diverslie him drawes, discoursing all. 
After long dowbte this sentence semed best: 
Mnestheus first, & strong Cleanthus eke. 
He calls to him, with Sergest ; vnto whom 

He gave in charge his navie secretlie 370 

For to prepare, & drawe to the sea coostes 
His people, & his armour to addres, 
& for the change of thinges to faine excuse, 
& that he wold, when Dido lest foreknew 

Or did suspect so great a love coold breke, 375 

Awaite a tyme to speke therof most mete; 
The nearest waie to hasten his entent. 



140 The Pof,ms of Surrey 

Gladly his wil and biddings they obey. 

Ful soone the quene this crafty sleight gan smell, — 
Who can deceiue a louer in forecast ? — 
And first foresaw the motions for to come, 

Things most assured fearing; vnto whom 385 

That wicked Fame reported, how to flight 
Was armde the fleet, all redy to auale. 
Then ill bested of counsell, rageth she, 
And whisketh through the town like Bachus nunne. 
As Thias stirres, the sacred rites begon, 390 

And when the wonted third yeres sacrifice 
Doth prick her fourth, hering Bachus name hallowed. 
And that the festful night of Citheron 
Doth call her fourth, with noyes of dauncing. 

At length her self bordeth Aeneas thus : 395 

"Unfaithfull wight, to couer such a fault 
Coldest thou hope? vnwist to leue my land? 
Not thee our loue, nor yet right hand bethrothed, 
Ne cruell death of Dido may withhold, 

But that thou wilt in winter shippes prepare, 400 

And trie the seas in broile of whorling windes? 
What if the land thou seekest were not straunge. 
If not vnknowen, or auncient Troye yet stoode. 
In rough seas yet should Troye towne be sought ? 
Shunnest thou me? By these teares and right hand, — 405 

For nought els haue I wretched lefte my self — 
By our spousals and mariage begonne. 
If I of thee deserued euer well. 
Or thing of mine were euer to thee leefe. 

Rue on this realme, whoes mine is at hand. 410 

If ought be left that praier may auaile, 
I thee beseche to do away this minde. 
The Libians and tirans of Nomadane 
For thee me hate ; my Tirians eke for thee 

Ar wroth; by thee my shamefastnes eke stained, 415 

And good renoume, wherby vp to the starres 
Perelesse I clame. To whom wilt thou me leaue, 
Redy to dye, my swete guest, sithe this name 
Is all, as now, that of a spouse remaines? 

But wherto now shold I prolong my death? 420 

What? vntil my brother Pigmalion 
Beate downe my walles? or the Getulian king 
Hiarbas yet captiue lead me away? 
Before thy flight a child had I ones borne. 



Translations From the ^neid 141 

Gladlie his will & biddinges thei obeie. 

Full soone the Quene this craftie sleight gan smell, 
— Who can deceaue a lover in forecast? — 380 

& first foresees these mocions for to come, 
Ye most assured fearing; vnto whom 
That wicked Fame reported how the flete 
Was armed new, all readie to avale. 

Then yll bestedd of cownsell, rageth she, 385 

& whisketh throwgh the towne like Bacchus nonne. 
As Thyas sturrs, the sacred rites begonne, 
When the wonted third yeres sacrifice 
Doth prick her furth, hering Bacchus name halowed, 
& when the feastfull night of Cytheron 390 

Doth call her owt, with noise of her dawnsing. 
At length her self thus boordes Aeneas with : 

"Vnfaithfull wight, to colour such a flight ! 

& cooldst thow hope vnwist to leave my land? 

Not the our love, nor yet right hand betrothde, 395 

Ne crwell dethe of Dido may with hold, 

But that thow wilt in winter shippes prepare 

& take the seas in broyle of raging windes? 

What if the land thow sekest war not strange, 

Yf not vnknowen, or auncient Troie stoode, 400 

In rowghe seas yet shuld Troie of the be sought? 

Shunnist thow me ? by these teares & right hand — 

For nowght ells haue I wretched lefte my self — , 

By our spowsailes & mariage begoune, 

If I of the deserued ever well, 405 

Or thing of mine war ever to the leefe, 

If to request that enie place be lefte. 

Rue on this realme, whose ruine ys at hand, 

I the beseche, & do awaie this minde. 

The Libian folke & tyrantes Numydanne 410 

For the me hate ; my Tryians eke are wrothe ; 

My shamefastnes eke stayned for thi cause, 
& good renowne, wherby vp to the starrs 

Pereles I clambe. To whom wilt thow me leaue, 

Readie to die, O my swete gest, syth this name 415 

Ys all, as now, that of a spowse remaines? 

But wherto now shuld I prolong my dethe ? 

What ? vnto my brother Pigmalion 

Bete downe my walls? or the Getulian king 

larbas yet captive lead me awaie? 420 

Before thie flight a child had I conceaved. 



142 The Poems oe Surrey 

Or sene a yong Aeneas in my court 425 

Play vp and down, that might present thy face, 
All vtterly I could not seeme forsaken." 

Thus sayd the quene. He, to the gods aduise, 
Unmoued held his eies, and in his brest 

Represt his care and stroue against his wil, 430 

And these few wordes at last then forth he cast: 
"Neuer shall I denie, quene, thy deserte. 
Greater than thou in wordes may well expresse. 
To think on thee ne irke me aye it shall. 

Whiles of my selfe I shall haue memory, 435 

And whiles the spirit these limmes of mine shal rule. 
For present purpose somwhat shal I say. 
Neuer ment I to clok the same by stelth, 
Sclaunder me not, ne to escape by flight. 

Nor I to thee pretended mariage, 440 

Ne hyther can to ioine me in such leage. 
If desteny at mine own liberty 
To lead my life would haue permitted me, 
After my wil my sorow to redoub, 

Troy and the remainder of our folke 445 

Restore I shold, and with these scaped handes 
The walks againe vnto thee vanquished, 
And palace high of Priam eke repaire. 
But now Apollo, called Grineus, 

And prophecies of Licia me aduise 450 

To sease vpon the realme of Italy ; 
That is my loue, my country, and my land 
If Cartage turrettes thee, Phenician borne, 
And of a Libian town the sight deteine. 

To vs Troians why doest thou then enuy 455 

In Italy to make our risting seat? 
Lefull is eeke for vs straunge realmes to seeke. 
As oft as night doth cloke with shadowes darke 
The earth, as oft as flaming starres apere, 

The troubled ghost of my father Anchises 460 

So oft in sleepe doth fray me, and aduise ; 
The wronged hed by me of my deare sonne, 
Whom I defraud of the Hisperian crown, 
And landes alotted him by desteny. 

The messenger eke of the gods but late 465 

Sent down from loue — I sware by either hed — , 
Passing the ayre, did this to me report. 
In bright day light the god my selfe I saw 



Translations From the ^neid 143 

Or saw a yong Aeneas in my court 

Play vp and downe, that did present thie face, 

All vtterlie I coold not seme forsaken." 

Thus sayd the quene. He, to the godes advice, 425 

Vnmoved held his eies, & in his brest 
Represt his care & stroue against his will, 
& these wordes few at lengthe furth gan he cast: 
"Never shall I denie, quene, thie desertes. 

Greater then thow in wordes may well expres. 430 

To thinke on the ne yrke me ay it shall, 
Whiles of my self I shall haue memorie, 
& whiles the sprite these limmes of mine shall rule. 
It is not great the thing that I requyer. 

Nether ment I to cloke the same by stelth, 435 

Slaunder me not, ne to eskape by flight. 
Ne I to the pretended mariage, 
Ne hither cam to joine me in such league. 
Yf destenie at mine owne libertie 

To lead my life woold haue permitted me, 440 

After my will my sorowes to redowble, 
Troie & the remainder of all my folke 
Restore I shuld, & with these scaped handes 
Ther walls againe vnto the vanquished, 

&: palaice hie of Priam eke repayer. 445 

But now Apollo, called Gryneus, 
& prophecies of Licia me bidd 
To sease vpon the realme of Italie; 
That is my loue, my countrie, & my land. 

Yf Carthage turretes the, of Phenis land, 450 

& of a Libian towne the sight detaynes. 
To vs Troianes whie dost thow then envie 
In Italie to make our rested ende ? 
Lefull it is for vs Strang realmes to seke. 

As ofte as night doth cloke with shadowe danke 455 

The erthe, as oft as flaming sterrs appere. 
The troobled ghost of my father Anchises 
So ofte in slepe doth feare & advice me, 
& wronged hedd by me of my dere sonne. 

Whom I defraude of the Hesperian crowne 460 

& landes allotted him by destenie. 
The messenger eke of the godes but late. 
Sent downe from love — I swere by either hedd — , 
Passing the aier, did this to me reporte. 
In bright daie light the god my self I sawe 465 



144 The Poems of Surrey 

Entre these walks, and with this eares him heard. 

Leue then with plaint to vexe both the and me; 470 

Against my will to Italy I g^o." 

Whiles in this sort he did his tale pronounce, 
With waiward looke she gan him ay behold, 
And roling eies that moued to and fro, 

With silent looke discoursing ouer al, 475 

And foorth in rage at last thus gan she brayde: 
"Faithlesse ! forsworn ! ne goddesse was thy dam, 
Nor Dardanus beginner of thy race. 
But of hard rockes mount Caucase monstruous 
Bred thee, and teates of tyger gaue thee suck. 480 

But what should I dissemble now my chere, 
Or me reserue to hope of greater things? 
Mindes he our teares, or euer m^oued his eyen? 
Wept he for ruth, or pitied he our loue? 

What shall I set before, or where begin? 485 

luno, nor loue, with iust eyes this beholds. 
Faith in no where in suretie to be found. 
Did I not him, thrown vp vpon my share, 
In neede receiue, and fonded eke inuest 

Of halfe my realme, his nauie lost, repair; 490 

From deathes daunger his fellowes eke defend? 
Ay me ! with rage and furies, loe ! I driue. 
Apollo now, now Lycian prophesies. 
Another while the messenger of gods. 

He sayes, sent down from mighty loue himself, 495 

The dredfuU charge amid the skies hath brought. 
As though that were the trauil of the gods, 
Or such a care their quietnes might moue ! 
I hold thee not, nor yet gainsay thy words : 

To Italic passe on by helpe of windes, 5CK) 

And through the floods go searche thy kingdom new. 
If ruthfull gods haue any power, I trust 
Amid the rocks thy guerdon thou shalt finde, 
When thou shalt clepe full oft on Didos name. 

With burial brandes I, absent, shall thee chase, 505 

And when cold death from life these lims deuides, 
My gost eche where shall still on thee awaite. 
Thou shalt abye, and I shall here thereof ; 
Among the soules below thy brute shall come." 

With such like wordes she cut of half her tale, 51u 

With pensiue hart abandoning the light, 
And from his sight herself gan farre remoue, 



Translations From the ^neid 145 

Entre these walls, & with these eares him hard. 
Leave then with plaint to vexe both the & me; 
Against my will to Italic I goe." 

Whiles in this sort his tale he did pronownce, 
With wayward looke she gan him aie behold, 470 

With rowling eies that moved to & fro, 
With sylent looke discoursing over all. 
& furth at last in rage thus gan she brayde: 
"Faithless ! foresworne ! thie dame ne goddes was, 
Nor Dardanus beginner of thie race, 475 

But soor hard rockes mownt Caucase monstruous 
Bredd the, & tettes of tygres gaue the sucke. 
But what shuld I dissemble now my chere. 
Or me reserue to hope of greater thinges? 

Shedd he one teare, or ever movde his eien? 4^ 

Wepte he for ruth, or pitied our loue? 
What shall I sett before, or wher beginne? 
luno, ne love, with iust eies this beheld. 
Faith is no wher ; no surete is to be fownde. 

Did I not him, throwen vp vpon my shore, 485 

In nede receaue, & fownded eke invest 
Of half my realme; his navie lost, repayer; 
From dethes daunger his felowes eke defende ? 
Aie me ! with rage of furies, lo ! I driue. 

Apollo now, now Lician prophecies, 490 

An other while the messenger of godes. 
He saith, sent downe from mightie love him self. 
This dreddfull charge amidd the skies hath browght. 
As thowgh that were the travaile of the godes. 

Or such a care ther quietnes might moue ! 495 

I hold the not, nor yet gainsaye thie wordes ; 
To Italic passe on by hclpe of windes, 
& throwgh the fluddes go serche thi kingdome new. 
Yf rufull godes haue enic power, I trust 

Amidd the rockes thie hyer shalt thow fynde, 500 

When thow shalt clcpe full oft on Didos name. 
With buriall brandes I, absent, shall the chase, 
& when cold dethe from life these lymmes devide, 
My ghost ech wher shall still on the awaitc. 

Thow shalt abie, & I shall here thereof ; 505 

Among the sowles bylowe this bruite shall come." 

With such like wordes she cutt of half his tale, 
With pensife hart abandoninge the light, 
& from his sight her self gan farr remoue, 



146 ■ Thf, Poems of Sukre;y 

Forsaking him, that many things in fere 

Imagened, and did prepare to say. 

Her swouning hms her damsels gan releue, 515 

And to her chamber bare of marble stone, 

And layd her on her bed with tapets spred. 

But iust Aeneas, though he did desire 
With comfort swet her sorows to appease. 

And with his words to banish all her care, 520 

Wailing her much, with great loue ouercome, 
The gods will yet he woorketh, and resortes 
Unto his nauie, where the Troyans fast 
Fell to their worke, from the shore to vnstock 

High rigged ships. Now fleetes the talowed kele. 525 

Their oares with leaues yet grene from wood they bring, 
And mastes vnshaue, for hast to take their flight. 
Y(ou might haue sene them throng out of the town 
Like ants, when they do spoile the bing of corne 
For winters dred, which they beare to their den, 530 

When the black swarm creeps ouer all the fields. 
And thwart the grasse by strait pathes drags their pray. 
The great graines then som on their shoulders trusse. 
Some driue the troupe, som chastice eke the slow, 
That with their trauaile chafed is eche pathe. 535 

Beholding this, what thought might Dido haue ! 
What sighes gaue she, when from her towers hye 
The large coasts she saw haunted with Troyans workes, 
And in her sight the seas with din confounded ! 

O witlesse loue, what thing is that to do 540 

A mortal minde thou canst not force thereto ! 
Forced she is to teares ay to returne, 
With new requestes to yeld her hart to loue. 
And least she should before her causelesse death 
Leave any thing vntried: "O sister Anne," 545 

Quoth she, "behold the whole coast round about. 
How they prepare, assembled euery where ; 
The streming sailes abiding but for wynde ; 
The shipmen crowne theyr ships with bows for ioy. 

sister, if so great a sorow I 550 
Mistrusted had, it were more light to beare. 

Yet nathelesse, this for me wretched wight, 

Anne, shalt thou do, for faithles, thee alone 

He reuerenced, thee eke his secretes tolde. 

The metest time thou knewest to borde the man ; 555 

To my proude foe thus, sister, humbly say: 

1 with the Grekes within the port Aulide 



Translations From the ^neid 147 

Forsaking him, that manie thinges in feare 510 

Imagyned, & did prepare to saye. 

Her sowning lymmes her damsells gan releue, 

& to her chamber bare of marble stone, 

& layd her on her bedd with tapistes spredd. 

But iust Aeneas, thowgh he did desyer 515 

With comfort swete her sorrowe to appease, 
& with his wordes to bannishe all her care, 
To waile her much with grete love ouercome. 
By the godes will yet workes he, & resortes 

Vnto his navie, wher the Troianes fast 520 

Fell to ther worke, from the shore to vnstocke 
Highe charged shippes. Now fleetes the talowed kele. 
Ther ores with leaues yet grene from woode thei bringe, 
& mastes vnshauen, for hast to take ther flight. 

Ye might haue seen them throng owt of the towne 525 

Like antes, when thei do spoile the binge of corne 
For winters dredd, which thei beare to ther denne. 
When the blake swarme creepes ouer all the feeldes, 
& thwart the grasse by straight pathes dragg ther praye. 
The gret graynes then somme on ther showlders trusse, 530 

Some driue the troope, some chastice eke the slowe ; 
With ther travaile chaffed ys euerie path. 

Beholdinge thus, what thowght might Dido haue ! 
What sighes gaue she, that from her towers of height 
The large coostes saw haunted with Troians werkes, 535 

& in her sight the seas with dynne confownded ! 
O wittles loue, what thing is that to do 
A mortall minde thow canst not force therto ! 
Forced she is to teares ay to returne, 

Bv new requestes to yeld her hart to loue. 540 

& lest she shuld before her causeles dethe 
Leave enie thing vntried : "O Sister An," 
Quod she, "behold the whole coost rovv'nd abowt, 
How thei prepare, assembled everie wher ; 

The streminge sayles abyden but for windes ; 545 

The shippmen crowne ther shippes with bowes for ioie. 

sister, if so great a sorrowe I 
Mistrusted had, it wear more light to beare. 
Yet natheles, this for me wretched wight, 

An, shalt thow doe, for faithles, the alone 550 

He reverenced, & eke his secrettes told. 

The metest tymes thow knew to boorde the man ; 

To my prowd foe thus, sister, humblie saye: 

1 with the Grekes in the port Aulide 



148 The Poems oe Surrey 

Coniured not, the Troyans to destroy; 

Nor to the walles of Troy yet sent my fleete; 

Nor cynders of his father Anchises 560 

Disturbed haue, out of his sepulture. 

Why lettes he not my wordes sinke in his eares 

So harde to ouertreate? whither whirles he? 

This last boone yet graunt he to wretched loue: 

Prosperous windes for to depart with ease 565 

Let him abide. The foresayde mariage now, 

That he betraied, I do not him require, 

Nor that he should f aire Italy forgo ; 

Neither I would he should his kingdom leaue ; 

Quiet I aske, and a time of delay, 570 

And respite eke my furye to asswage. 

Till my mishap teach me, all comfortlesse. 

How for to wayle my grief. This latter grace, 

Sister, I craue; have thou remorse of me! 

Whiche, if thou shalt vouchsafe, with heapes I shall 575 

Leaue by my death redoubled vnto thee." 

Moisted with teares thus wretched gan she playne; 
Which Anne reportes, and answere bringes againe. 
Nought teares him moue, ne yet to any wordes 

He can be framed with gentle minde to yelde. 580 

The werdes withstande, & God stops his meke eares. 
Like to the aged boysteous bodied oke. 
The which among the Alpes the northerne windes, 
Blowyng now from this quarter, now from that. 
Betwixt them striue to ouerwhelme with blastes ; 585 

The whistlyng ayre among the braunches rores. 
Which all at once bow to the earth her croppes. 
The stock once smit ; whiles in the rockes the tree 
Stickes fast ; and loke ! how hye to the heauen her toppe 
Reares vp, so deepe her roote spredes downe to hell : 590 

So was this lorde now here, now there beset 
With wordes, in whose stoute brest wrought many cares. 

But still his minde in one remaines ; in vaine 
The teares were shed. Then Dido, frayde of fates, 
Wisheth for death, irked to see the skyes. 595 

And that she might the rather worke her will, 
And leaue the light — a grisely thing to tell — , 
Upon the altars, burnyng full of cense, 
When she set giftes of sacrifice, she saw 

The holy water stocks waxe blacke within ; 600 

The wine eke shed, chaunge into filthy gore. 



Translations From the ^neid 149 

Coniured not, the Troianes to destroie; 555 

Nor to the walls of Troie yet sent my f leete ; 

Nor cynders of his father Anchises 

Disturbed, aye owt of his sepulture. 

Whie lettes he not my wordes synk in his eares 

So hard for to intreat ? whither whorles he ? 560 

This last boone yet graunte he to wretched loue : 

Prosperous windes for to depart with ease 

Let him abide. The foresaid marriage now, 

That he betraide, I do not him requyer, 

Nor that he shuld faire Italie forgoe; 565 

Nether I woold he shuld his kingdome leaue ; 

Quiet I aske, & a tyme of delaye, 

& respite eke my furie to aswage. 

Till my mishappe teach me, all comefortles, 

How for to waile my greif. This latter grace, 570 

Sister,. I craue ; haue thow remorse of me ! 

Which, if thow shalt vouchsafe, with heapes I shall 

Leave by my dethe well rendred vnto the." 

Mingled with teares thus wretched gan she plaine; 
Which An reportes, & answer bringes againe. 575 

Nowght teares him moue, ne yet vnto my wordes 
He harkyns, thowgh that he war milde of kynde. 
Destenie withstandes ; a god stoppes his meke eares. 
Like to the aged boistrous bodid oke, 

Amidd the Alpes, which that the northren windes, 580 

That now from this, now from that quarter blowe, 
Betwixt them striue to overwhelme with blast ; 
The whistling ayer amongest the braunches rores. 
Which all at ones bowe to the erthe hys croppes, 
The stocke onste smyte ; whiles in the rockes the tree 
Stikes fast ; & looke ! how hie to heaven his topp 
Reares vp, as deepe his roote spredes downe to hell : 
So was this lord now here, now ther besett 
With wordes, in whose stowt brest wrowght maine cares. 

But still his minde in one remaynes ; for nowght 590 

The teares werr shed. Then Dido, frayd of fates, 
Wisheth for dethe, yrkenge to see the skies. 
& that she might the rather worke her will, 
& leaue the light — a greislie thing to tell — , 

Vpon the aulters, burninge full of sence, 595 

When she sett giftes of sacrifice, she sawe 
The holie water stockes waxe blake within ; 
The wine eke shedd, changde into f ilthie geare ; 



585 



150 The Poems oe Surrey 

This she to none, not to her sister told. 

A marble temple in her palace eke, 

In memory of her old spouse, there stood, 

In great honour and worship, which she held, 605 

With snowwhite clothes deckt, and with bows of feast; 

Wherout was herd her husbandes voyce and speche 

Cleping for her, when dark night hid the earth. 

And oft the owle with rufull song complaind 

From the house top, drawing long dolefull tunes. 610 

And many things, forspoke by prophets past. 

With dredfull warning gan her now affray. 

And stern Aeneas semed in her slepe 

To chase her stil about, distraught in rage. 

And still her thought that she was left alone 615 

Uncompanied, great viages to wende, 

In desert land her Tyrian folk to seeke. 

Like Pentheus, that in his madnes saw 

Swarming in flocks the furies all of hell. 

Two suns remoue, and Thebes town shew twain ; 620 

Or like Orestes, Agamemnons son. 

In tragedies who represented aye 

Driuen about, that from his mother fled 

Armed with brands, and eke with serpents black ; 

That sitting found within the temples porche 625 

The vglie furies his slaughter to reuenge. 

Yelden to wo, when phrensie had her caught, 
Within her selfe then gan she well debate, 
Full bent to dye, the time and eke the meane; 

And to her wofull sister thus she sayd, 630 

In outward chere dissembling her entent. 
Presenting hope vnder a semblant glad: 
"Sister, reioyce ! for I haue found the way 
Him to returne, or lose me from his loue. 

Toward the end of the great ocean flood, 635 

Where as the wandring sun discendeth hence. 
In the extremes of Ethiope, is a place 
Where huge Atlas doth on his sholders turne 
The sphere so round, with flaming starres beset; 
Borne of Massayle, I heare, should be a nunne, 640 

That of Thesperian sisters temple old 
And of their goodly garden keper was. 
That geues vnto the dragon eke his foode, 
That on the tree preserues the holy fruit 
That honie moyst, and sleping poppey castes. 645 



Translations From the ^neid 151 

Which she to none, ner to her sister told. 

A marble temple in her palaice eke, 600 

In memorie of her old spouse, ther stoode, 

In great honour & wurshippe, which she held, 

With snow white clothes deckt, & with bowes of feast ; 

Wher oft was hard her husbondes voice, & speche 

Clepinge for her, when derke night hidd the erth. 605 

& oft the owle with rufull song complaind 

From the howse topp, to drawe his plaining tunes. 

& manie thinges, forspoke by prophetes past, 

Of dreddfull warninges gan her no\v afraye, 

& Sterne Aeneas semed in her slepe 610 

To chase her still abowt, bestraught in rage. 

& still her thowght that she was left alone 

Vnwaited on great voiages to wende. 

In desert land her Tyrian folke to seke. 

Like Pentheus, that in his maddnes sawe 615 

Swarminge in flockes the furies all of hell. 

Two souns remoue, & Thebes towne showde twaine ; 

Or like Orestes, Agamemnons sonne, 

In tragedies who representeth aie 

Driven abowt, that from his mother fledd 620 

With armed brandes, & eke with serpentes blake; 

That sitting fownd within the temples porche 

Th uglie furies his slaughter to revenge. 

Yolden to woe, when frensie had her caught, 
Within her self then gan she well debate, 625 

Full bent to dye, the tyme Sz eke the meane ; 
& to her wofull sister thus she sayd. 
In owtward chere dissembling her entent, 
Presentinge hope vnder a semblant glade : 

"Sister, reioice ! for I haue fownd the waie 630 

Him to returne, & loose me from his loue. 
Toward the ende of the occean fludd, 
Wheras the sonne descendeth & declines, 
In thextremes of Aethiope, is a place 

Wher huge Atlas doth on his showlders turne 635 

The sphere so rownd, with flaming sterrs besett ; 
Borne of Massile, I here, shuld be a nonne. 
Of the Hesperian sisters temple old 
The garder, that giues the dragon foode 

That on the tre preserues the holie fruite 640 

Which honie moist & sleping popey cast. 



152 The Poems of Surrey 

This woman doth auaunt, by force of charme, 

What hart she Hst to set at libertie, 

And other some to perce with heuy cares ; 

In running flood to stop the waters course, 

And eke the sterres their meuings to reuerse ; 650 

Tassemble eke the gostes that walk by night. 

Under thy feete thearth thou shalt behold 

Tremble and rore, the okes come from the hill. 

The gods and thee, dere sister, now I call 

In witnes, and thy hed to me so sweete, 655 

To magike artes against my will I bend. 

Right secretly within our inner court. 

In open ay re reare vp a stack of wood, 

And hang theron the weapon of this man, 

The which he left within my chamber stick. 660 

His weedes dispoiled all, and bridal bed. 

Wherein, alas ! sister, I found my bane. 

Charge thereupon ; for so the nunne commaundes. 

To do away what did to him belong, 

Of that false wight that might remembraunce bring." 665 

Then whisted she; the pale her face gan staine. 
Ne could yet Anne beleue her sister ment 
To cloke her death by this new sacrifice. 
Nor in her brest such furie did conceiue ; 

Neither doth she now dred more greuous thing 670 

Then folowed Sichees death ; wherefore 
She put her will in vre. But then the queue. 
When that the stak of wood was reared vp 
Under the ayre within the inward court. 

With clouen oke and billets made of fyrre, 675 

With garlandes she doth all beset the place. 
And with grene bows eke crown the funerall ; 
And therupon his wedes and swerd yleft, 
And on a bed his picture she bestowes, 

As she that well foreknew what was to come. 680 

The altars stande about, and eke the nunne 
With sparkeled tresse ; the which thre hundred gods 
With a loude voice doth thunder out at once: 
Erebus the grisely, and Chaos huge. 

And eke the threefolde goddesse Hecate, 685 

And three faces of Diana the virgin; 
And sprinkcles eke the water counterfet, 
Like vnto blacke Auernus lake in hell. 
And springyng herbes reapt vp with brasen sithes 
Were sought, after the right course of the moone; 690 



Translations From the ^neid 153 

This woman doth avaunt, by force of charmes, 

What hart she Hst lo sett at libertie, 

& other some to perse with heavie care ; 

In ronning floode to stopp the waters course, 645 

& in the sterrs ther order to reverse; 

The ghostes that walke by night eke to assemble. 

Vnder thie foote the earth thow shalt behold 

Tremble & rore, the okes fall from the hills. 

The godes & the, dere sister, now I call 650 

In wittnes, & thie hedd to me so swete, 

To magike art against my will I bend. 

Right secretlie within our inner court, 

In open aier reare vp a stacke of woode, 

& hang ther on the weapon of this man, 655 

The which he lefte within my chamber sticke. 

His weedes despoiled all, & brydall bedd, 

Wherin, alas! sister, I fownd my bane, 

Charge ther vpon ; for so the nonne commaundes, 

To do awaie what so did him belong, 660 

Of that false wight that might remembrance bring." 

Then whisted she ; the pale her face gan staine. 
Ne coold yet An beleue her sister ment 
To cloke her dethe by this new sacrifice. 

Nor in her brest such furie did conceaue ; 665 

Nether doth she now dredd more grevous thinges 
Then folowed Sycheus dethe, wherfor 
She puttes her will in vre. 
But the queue, when the stacke was reared vp 

Vnder the aier within the open court, 670 

With cloven oke & billettes made of fyrr. 
With garlandes then she doth besett the place, 
& with grene bowes eke crowen the funerall ; 
& ther vpon his weedes & sword forsake, 

& over his bedd his picture she bestowes, 675 

As she that well foreknew what was to come. 
The aulters stand abowt, & eke the nonne 
With sparkled tresse ; the which iii C godes 
With a lowd voice doth thunder owt at once : 

Herebus greislie, & Chaos eke, 680 

With the thref old goddes Proserpine, 
& thre figures of Dian the virgine; 
& sprinkles eke the water counterfayte, 
Vnto the blake Avernus lake in hell. 
Weare sought, after the right course of the moone; 
& springing herbes reaped with brasen sighes 685 



154 The; Poijms oif Surrey 

The venim blacke intermingled with milke; 

The lumpe of fleshe twene the new borne foales eyen 

To reue, that winneth from the damme her loue. 

She, with the mole all in her handes deuout, 

Stode neare the aulter, bare of the one foote, 695 

With vesture loose, the bandes vnlaced all ; 

Bent for to dye, cals the gods to recorde. 

And gilty starres eke of her desteny. 

And if there were any god that had care 

Of louers hartes, not moued with loue alike, 700 

Him she requires of iustice to remember. 

It was then night ; the sounde and quiet slepe 
Had through the earth the weried bodyes caught ; 
The woodes, the ragyng seas were f alne to rest ; 
When that the starres had halfe their course declined; 70S 

The feldes whist, beastes, and fowles of diuers hue, 
And what so that in the brode lakes remainde, 
Or yet among the bushy thickes of bryar, 
Laide downe to slepe by silence of the night, 

Gan swage their cares, mindlesse of trauels past. 710 

Not so the spirite of this Phenician, 
Unhappy she, that on no slepe could chance, 
Nor yet nightes rest enter in eye or brest; 
Her cares redoble ; loue doth rise and rage againe. 
And ouerflowes with swellyng stormes of wrath. 715 

Thus thinkes she then, this roules she in her mind: 

"What shall I do? shall I now beare the scorne 
For to assaye mine olde woers againe. 
And humbly yet a Numid spouse require. 

Whose mariage I haue so oft disdayned ? 720 

The Troyan nauy, and Teucrian vile commaundes 
Follow shall I, as though it shoulde auaile, 
That whilom by my helpe they were releued ? 
Or for because with kinde and mindefull folke 

Right well doth sit the passed thankef ull dede ? 725 

Who would me suf fer^ — admit this were my will — , 
Or me scorned to their proude shippes receiue ? 
Oh, wo begone, full little knowest thou yet 
The broken othes of Laomedons kinde ! 

What then ? alone on mery mariners 730 

Shall I waite, or borde them with my power 
Of Tyrians, assembled me about? 
And such as I with trauaile brought from Tyre, 
Driue to the seas, and force them saile againe ? 



Translations From the ^neid 155 

Ther venime blake entermingled with mylke ; 

The lompe of fleshe twene the new borne fols eien 

To weane her from her dames loue. 

She, with the milk in bothe her handes devoute, 690 

Stoode nere the aulter, bare on the one foote, 

With vesture loose, the bandes vnlaced all ; 

Bent for to dye, calls the godes to record, 

& gyltie sterrs eke of her destenie. 

& if that ther werr enie god had care 695 

Of lovers trwe, vnequall in behest, 

Him she requires of iustice to remember. 

Yt was the night that sownd & quiet rest 
Had throwgh the erth the wearied bodies caught ; 

The woodes, the raging seas war fallen to rest ; 700 

When that the Starrs had half ther course declinde ; 
The feldes whiste, beastes, & fowles of dyvers hwe, 
& what so that in the brode slowghes remaine. 
Or vet amonges the busshie thickes of bryer, 

Laid downe to slepe by sylence of the night, 705 

Gan swage ther cares, mindles of travailes past. 
Not so the sprite of this Phenician, 
Vnhappie she, that on no slepe coold chaunce, 
Nor yet nightes rest in eie nor brest coold entre ; 

Her cares redowble ; loue rise & rage againe, 710 

& ouerflowes with swelling stormes of wrathe. 
Thus thinkes she then, thus rowles she in her minde : 

"What shuld I do? shall I now beare the skorne 
For to assaye myne old wooers againe. 

Or humblie yet a Numyde spouse require, 715 

Whose mariage I haue so ofte disdainde? 
The Troiane nevie, & Teuchryn vile commaundes 
Follow shall I, as thowgh it shuld availe. 
That whilome by mie helpe thei war releved ? 

Or for bycause with kynd & mindfull folke 720 

Right well doth sitt the passed thankf ull dede ? 
Who woold me suffer — admitt this war my will — , 
Or skorned me to ther prowd shippes receaue ? 
Oh, woe begon, full litle doest thow knowe 

Or smell the broken othes of Laomedus kinde ! 725 

What then? alone with merie maryners 
Shall I awaite, or boorde them with my powder 
Of Tyrians, assembled me abowt? 
& such as I with travaile browght from Tyre, 
Druie to the seas, & force them sayle againe? 730 



156 The Poems of Surrey 

But rather dye, euen as thou hast deserued, 735 

And to this wo \\ith iron geue thou ende! 

And thou, sibter, first vanquisht with my teares 

Thou in my rage with all these mischtefes first 

Didst burden me, and yelde me to my foe. 

Was it not graunted me, from spousals free, 740 

Like to wilde beastes, to Hue without offence. 

Without taste of such cares? Is there no fayth 

Reserued to the cinders of Sychee?" 

Such great complaints brake forth out of her brest ; 
Whiles Aeneas, full minded to depart, 745 

All thinges prepared, slept in the poupe on high. 
To whom in slepe the wonted godheds forme 
Gan aye appere, returnyng in like shape 
As semed him, and gan him thus aduise, 

Like vnto Mercury in voyce and hue, 759 

With yelow bushe, and comely lymmes of youth : 
"O Goddesse sonne, in such case canst thou sleepe ? 
Ne yet bestraught the daungers doest forsee 
That compasse thee, nor hearst the faire windes blowe? 
Dido in minde roules vengenance and desceite ; 755 

Determd to dye, swelles with vnstable ire. 
Wilt thou not flee, whiles thou hast time of flight? 
Straight shalt thou see the seas couered with sayles. 
The blasyng brondes the shore all spred with flame. 
And if the morow steale vpon thee here ? 760 

Come of, haue done, set all delay aside ; 
For full of change these w'omen be alway." 
This sayd, in the dark night he gan him hide. 

Aeneas, of this sodain vision 
Adred, starts vp out of his sleepe in hast ; 765 

Cals vp his f eers : "Awake ! get vp, my men !' 
Abord your ships, and hoyse vp sayl with speede ! 
A god me wills, sent from aboue againe, 
To hast my flight, and writhen cabels cut. 

Oh holy god, what so thow art, we shall 770 

Folow thee, and all blithe obey thy will. 
Be at our hand, and f rendly vs assist ! 
Addresse the sterres with prosperous influence !" 
And with that word his glistering sword vnshethes. 
With which drawen he the cabels cut in twaine. 775 

The like desire the rest embraced all. 
All thing in hast they cast, and fourth they whurle. 
The shores they leaue ; with ships the seas ar spred ; 
Cutting the fome by the blew seas they swepe. 



Translations From the ^neid 157 

But rather dye, even as thow hast deserved, 

& to this woe with yron geve thow ende! 

& thow, sister, first vanquisht with my teares, 

Thow in my rage with all these mischief es fyrst 

Did burden me, & wisht me to my foe. 735 

Was it not graunted me, from spousailes fre. 

Like to wild bestes, to lyve with owt offence, 

With owt tast of such cares? Is ther no faith 

Reserude to the cynders of Sycheus? 

Such great complaintes brake furth owt of her brest ; 740 

Whiles that Aeneas, certein to depart. 
All thinges preparde, slept in the pupp on hie. 
To whom in sleape the wonted godheddes forme 
Gan aie appere, returning in like shape 

As semed him, & gan him thus advise, 745 

Like vnto Mercuric in voice & here, 
With yelow bushe & comelie lymmes of youthe: 
"O goddes sone, in such case canst thow sleape? 
Nor yet bestraight the daungers dest for see 

That compass the, ner here the f aire windes blowe ? 750 

Dido in minde rowles veniaunce & deceite; 
Certein of death, swells with vnstable yre. 
Wilt thow not fie, whiles thow hast tyme of flight ? 
Straight shalt thow se the seas coverd with sayles, 
The biasing brondes the shore skalt all with flame. 755 

& if the morow steales vpon the here? 
Come of, haue done, sett all delaie aside ; 
For full of change these women be allwaie." 
This said, in the dark night he gan him hide. 

Aeneas, of this sodaine vision 760 

Adredd, stertes vp owt of his sleape in hast ; 
Calls vp his feres : "Awake ! gett vp, my men ! 
Aburd your shippes, & hoyse vp sayle with spede! 
A god me wills, sent from aboue againe. 

To hast my flight, & wrethed cables cutt. 765 

O holie god, what so thow art, we shall 
Followe the, & all blithe obaye thie will. 
Be at our hand, & f rindlie vs assist ! 
Adresse the sterrs with prosperous influence !" 

& with that word his raser sword vnshethes, 770 

With which drawen he the cable cutt in twaine ; 
The like desire the rest imbraced all. 
All thing in hast thei refte, & furth thei whorle. 
The shore thei leave ; with shippes the sees ar spredd ; 
Cuttinge the fome by the grene seas thei sweepe. 775 



158 The Poems of Surrey 

Aurora now from Titans pvirple bed 780 

With new day light hath ouerspred the earth, 
When by her windowes the quene the peping day 
Espyed, and nauie with splaid sailes depart 
The shore, and eke the porte of vessels voyde. 

Her comly brest thrise or foure times she smote 785 

With her own hand, and tore her golden tresse. 
"Oh loue!" quoth she, "shall he then thus depart, 
A straunger thus, and scorne our kingdom so? 
Shall not my men do on theyr armure prest, 

And eke pursue them throughout all the town ? 790 

Out of the rode sone shall the vessell warpe ? 
Hast on, cast flame, set sayle, and welde your owers ! 
What said I? but where am I? what phrensie 
Alters thy minde? Vnhappy Dido, now 

Hath thee beset a f roward destenie ? 795 

Then it behoued, when thou didst geue to him 
The scepter, ho ! his faith and his right hand. 
That leades with him, they say, his countrie godes, 
That on his back his aged father bore ! 

His body might I not have caught and rent. 800 

And in the seas drenched him, and his feers ? 
And from Ascanius his life with iron reft, 
And set him on his fathers bord for meate? 
Of such debate perchaunce the fortune might 

Haue bene doutfull ; would god it were assaied ! 805 

Whom should I feare, sith I my selfe must die? 
Might I have throwen into that nauy brandes, 
And filled eke their deckes with flaming fire, 
The father, sonne, and all their nacion 

Destroied, and falln my self ded ouer al ! 810 

Sunne, with thy beames that mortall workes discries; 
And thou, luno, that wel these trauailes knowest ; 
Proserpine, thou, vpon whom folk do vse 
To houle, and call in forked waies by night ; 

Infernal furies, ye wreakers of wrong; 815 

And Didos gods, who standes at point of death : 
Receiue these wordes, and eke your heauy power 
Withdraw from me, that wicked folk deserue, 
And our request accept, we you beseche. 

If so that yonder wicked head must needes 820 

Recouer port, and saile to land of force, 
And if loues wil haue so resolued it, 
And such ende set as no wight can fordoe; 



Translations From the ^neid 159 

Aurora now from Titans purple bedd 
With new daies light had ouerspredd the earth, 
Throwgh the windowe the quene the creking daye 
Aspied, & navie with splaide sayles depart 

The shore, & eke the port of vessells voide. 780 

Her comelye brest thrise or fower tymes she smitte 
With her owne hand, & tare her golden tresse. 
"Oh love!" quod she, "Shall he then thus depart, 
A straunger thus, & skorne our kingdome soe ? 

Shall not my men do on ther armour prest, 785 

& eke persue them throwgh owt all this towne ? 
Owt of the rode soone shuld the vessells warpe? 
Hast on, cast flame, hoyse sayle, &r weelde your ores ! 
What said I ? but wher am I ? what f ransie 

Alters thie minde ? Vnhappie Dido, now 790 

Hath the be sett a froward destenie? 
Then the behoued, when thow did devide 
Thie sceptre. Loe, his faithe & his right hand. 
That ledes with him, thei saye, his cuntrie godes, 

That on his backe his aged father bare ! 795 

His bodie might not I haue caught & rent, 
& in the sees haue drentcht him, & his pheres ? 
Or from Askanius his life berefte with yron, 
& sett him on his fathers boord for meat? 

Of such debate perchaunce the fortune might 800 

Haue dowtefull bene ; woold god yt war assayd ! 
Whom shuld I fear, that sithe my self must dye? 
Might I haue throwen into that navie brondes, 
& fylled eke ther deckes with flaming fyer. 

The father, sonn, & all the nacion 805 

Distroyed, & fall my self ther ouer all ! 
Sunne, with thie beames that mortall werkes descriest; 
And thow, luno, that well these travailes knowst ; 
Proserpine, thow, vpon whom folke do vse 

To howle, & call in forked waies by night ; 810 

Infernall furies, ye wreekers of wrong; 
& Didos godes, which standes at point of deathe : 
Receaue these wordes, & eke your heavie powre 
With drawe from me, that wicked folke deserue, 
& our request accepte, we you besech. 815 

If so that yonder wicked hed must nedes 
Recouer port, & sayle to land of force, 
& if Tones will hath so resolved it, 
& such end sett as no wight can f ordoe ; 



160 The Poems of vSurrey 

Yet at the least asailed mought he be 

With armes and warres of hardy nacions ; 825 

From the boundes of his kingdom farre exiled; 

lulus eke rashed out of his armes ; 

Driuen to call for helpe, that he may see 

The giltlesh corpses of his folke lie dead. 

And after hard condicions of peace, 830 

His realme, nor life desired may he brooke; 

But fall before his time, vngraued amid the sandes. 

This I require; these wordes with blood I shed. 

And, Trians, ye his stocke and all his race 

Pursue with hate ! rewarde our cinders so ! 835 

No loue nor leage betwixt our peoples be ! 

And of our bones some wreaker may there spring, 

With sword and flame that Troians may pursue ! 

And from hence foorth, when that our powr may stretch, 

Our costes to them contrary be for aye, 840 

I craue of God ; and our streames to their fluddes ; 

Armes vnto armes; and offspring of eche race 

With mortal warr eche other may fordoe !" 

This said, her mind she writhed on al sides, 
Seking with spede to end her irksome life. 845 

To Sichees nurse, Barcen, then thus she said — 
For hers at home in ashes did remaine — : 
"Cal vnto me, deare nurse, my sister Anne ; 
Bid her in hast in water of the fludde 

She sprinckle the body, and bring the beastes 850 

And purging sacrifice I did her shewe. 
So let her come ; and thou thy temples bind 
With sacred garlandes ; for the sacrifice 
That I to Pluto haue begonne, my mind 

Is to performe, and geue end to these cares ; 855 

And Troian statue throw into the flame." 
When she had said, redouble gan her nurse 
Her steppes, forth on an aged womans trot. 

But trembling Dido egerly now bent 
Upon her sterne determinacion, 860 

Her bloodshot eies roling within her head. 
Her quiuering chekes flecked with deadly staine, 
Both pale and wan to think on death to come, 
Into the inward wardes of her palace 

She rusheth in, and clam vp, as distraught, 865 

The buriall stack, and drew the Troian swerd, 
Her gift sometime, but ment to no such vse. 



Translations From the ^neid 161 

Yet at the least assayled might he be 820 

With armes & warrs of hardie nacions ; 

From the bondes of his kingdome farr exiled; 

lulus eke ravisht owt of his armes ; 

Driven to call for helpe, that he male se 

The wailfull corses of his folke lie dedd. 825 

& after hard condicions of peace, 

His realme, nor life desyred maie he brooke ; 

But dye before his tyme, vnburied amidd the sandes. 

This I require; these wordes with blud ishedd. 

&, Tirians, ye his stocke & all his race 830 

Pursue with hate ! reward our cindres so ! 

No loue nor league betwixt our peoples be ! 

And of our bones some wreeker may ther springe, 

With sword & flame that Troianes may pursue ! 

And from hencefoorth, when that our powr may stretch, 835 

Our coostes to them contrarie be thei aie, 

I craue of God; that our streames to ther fluddes ; 

Armes vnto armes ; & ofspringe of ech race !" 

This sayd, her mind she wrythde ouer all sides, 
Seking with spede to ende this yrkesome life. 840 

To Syches nurse, Barcen, then thus she sayd— 
For hers at home in asshes did remaine — : 
"Call vnto me, dere nurse, my sister An ; 
Bidd her in haste in water of the floode 

She sprinkle the bodye, Sz bring the beastes 485 

& purging sacrifice I did her showe. 
So lett her come ; & thow thie temples bynde 
With sacred garlandes ; for the sacrifice 
That I to Pluto haue begonn, I mynde 

For to perfourme,& geue ende to these cares ; 850 

A Troiane statue throwe into the flame." 
When she had sayd, redowble gan her nurse 
Her steppes, forth on an aged womans trott. 

But trembling Dido egerlie now bent 
Vpon her sterne determinacion, 855 

Her bludd shott eien rowling within her hedd, 
Her quiering chekes fleked with deadlie staine, 
Both pale & wanne to thinke on deathe to come, 
Into the inner wardes of her palaice 

She russheth in, & clamme vp, as bestraught, 860 

The buriall stacke, & drew the Troiane sword. 
Her gifte sometime, but ment to no such vse. 



162 The Poems of Surrey 

Where, when she saw his weed and wel knowen bed, 

Weping a while, in study gan she stay, 

Fell on the bed, and these last words she said: 870 

"Swete spoiles, whiles God and destenies it wold, 

Receue this sprite, and rid me of these cares ! 

I liued and ranne the course fortune did graunt, 

And vnder earth my great gost now shall wende, 

A goodly town I built, and saw my walles, 875 

Happy, alas, to happy, if these costes 

The Troyan shippes had neuer touched aye!" 

This said, she laid her mouth close to the bed. 
"Why then", quoth she, "vnworken shall we die? 
But let vs die, for thus, and in this sort 880 

It liketh vs to seeke the shadowes darck. 
And from the seas the cruel Troyans eies 
Shall wel discern this flame, and take with him 
Eke these vnlucky tokens of my death." 

As she had said, her damsells might perceue 885 

Her with these wordes fal pearced on a sword, 
The blade embrued, and hands besprent with gore. 
The clamor rang vnto the pallace toppe ; 
The brute ranne throughout al thastoined towne. 
With wailing great, and womens shril yelling 890 

The roffes gan roare, the aire resound with plaint. 
As though Cartage or thauncient town of Tyre 
With prease of entred enemies swarmed full ; 
Or when the rage of furious flame doth take 
The temples toppes, and mansions eke of men. 895 

Her sister Anne, spritelesse for dread to heare 
This fearefull sturre, with nailes gan teare her face. 
She smote her brest, and rushed through the rout, 
And her dieng she cleapes thus by her name : 

"Sister, for this with craft did you me bourd? 900 

The stak, the flame, the altars, bred they this? 
What shall I first complaine, fosaken wight? 
Lothest thou in death thy sisters felowship? 
Thou shouldst haue calld me to like destiny : 

One wo, one sword, one houre mought end vs both ! 905 

This funerall stak built I with these handes, 
And with this voice cleped our natiue gods; 
And, cruel, so absentest me from thy death? 
Destroyd thou hast, sister, both thee and me, 

Thy people eke, and princes borne of Tyre. 910 

Geue here ; I shall with water washe her woundes. 
And suck with mouth her breath, if ought be left." 



Transi^ations From the; ^neid 163 

Wher, when she saw his weedes & wellknowen bedd, 

Wepinge a while, in studie gan she staye, 

Fell on the bedd, & these last wordes she sayde : 865 

"Swete spoiles, whiles God & destenie did permitt, 
Receave this sprite, & ridd me of these cares ! 
I ran the course so longe as fortune did yt graunt, 
& vnder earth my great ghost now shall wende. 

A goodlie towne I buylt, & saw my walls, 870 

Happie, alas, to happie, if these coostes 
The Troiane shippes had never towched aie !" 

This sayd, she layd her mowth close to the bedd. 
"Whie then," quod she, "vnwroken shall we die? 

But let vs die, for thus, & in this sort 875 

Yt liketh vs to seke the shadows darke. 
& from the seas the crwell Troiane eies 
Shall well discerne this flame, & take with him 
Eke these vnluckie tokens of my deathe." 

As she had sayd, her damsells might perceve 880 

Her with those wordes fall persed on the sword, 
The broyling blood with gore, & handes imbrwed. 
The clamer rang vnto the palaice topp; 
The bruite ran throwgh all the astoined towne. 

With wailing great, & womens laymenting 885 

The roophes gan rore, the aire resownd with plaint. 
As thowgh Carthage or auncient Tyre 
With presse of entred armes swarmed full ; 
Or when the rage of furious flame doth take 
The temples toppes, & mansions eke of men. 890 

Her sister An, spriteles for drede to here 
This dreddfull sturr, with nailes gan tere her face. 
She smotte her brest, & russheth throwgh the rowte, 
& dying thus she cleapes her by her name : 

"Sister, for this with crafte did you me boorde? 895 

The stacke, the flame, the aulters, bredd thei this? 
What shall I fyrst complaine, forsaken wight? 
Loothest thow in dethe thi sisters f elowshipe ? 
Thow shuld haue called me to like destenie: 

One woe, one sword, one hower ende both vs two ! 900 

Thys funerall stacke buylt I vp with these handes, 
& with this voice cleped our natiue godes ; 
&, crwell, so absentes me from thie deathe ? 
Distroid yt hath, sister, both the & me, 

Thie people eke, & princes borne of Tyre. 905 

Geve here ; I shall with water washe her woundes, 
& sucke with mowthe her breath, if owght be lefte." 



164 The Poems of Surrey 

This said, vnto the high degrees she mounted, 
Embrasing fast her sister now half dead. 

With wailefull plaint; whom in her lap she layd, 915 

The black swart gore wiping dry with her clothes. 
But Dido striueth to lift vp againe 
Her heauy eyen, and hath no power thereto: 
Deepe in her brest that fixed wound doth gape. 
Thrise leaning on her elbow gan she raise 920 

Herself vpward, and thrise she ouerthrewe 
Upon the bed, ranging with wandring eies 
The skies for light, and wept when she it found. 

Almighty luno hauing ruth by this 
Of her long paines and eke her lingring death, 925 

From heauen she sent the goddesse Iris downe, 
The throwing sprit and iointed limmes to loose. 
For that neither by lot of destiny 
Nor yet by kindly death she perished. 

But wretchedly before her fatall day, 930 

And kindled with a sodein rage of flame, 
Proserpine had not from her head bereft 
The golden heare, nor iudged her to hell. 
The dewye Iris thus with golden wings, 

A thousand hues shewing against the sunne, 935 

Amid the skies then did she flye adowne, 
On Didos head where as she gan alight: 
"This heare", quod she, "to Pluto consecrate, 
Commaunded I reue; and thy spirit vnloose 

From this body." And when she thus had said, 940 

With her right hand she cut the heare in twaine. 
And therwith al the kindly heat gan quench, 
And into wind the life foorthwith resolue. 



Translations From the --^n^d 165 

Thus sayd, vnto the hie degrees she mownted, 
Embracing fast her sister now half deed, 

With wailfull plaint; whom in her lapp she layd, 910 

The blake swart gore wiping drie with her clothes. 
& Dido striveth to lifte vp againe 
Her heavie eien, & hath no power therto: 
Depe in her brest the fixed wound doth gape. 

Thrise leaning on her elbowe gan she raise 915 

Her self vpward, & thrise she ouerthrew 
Vpon the bedd, raginge with wandring eies 
The skies for light, & wept when she it fownde. 

Allmightie luno, having ruthe by this 
Of her long paines & eke her lingring deathe, 920 

From heaven she sent the goddes Iris downe. 
The striving sprite & iointed lymmes to loose. 
For that neither by lott of destenie 
Ner yet by naturall death she perished, 

But wretchedlie before her fatall daye, 925 

& kindled with a sodayne rage of flame, 
Proserpine had not from hedd berefte 
The golden herre, nor iudged her to hell. 
The dewie Iris thus with golden winges, 

A thowsand hues showing against the soun, 930 

Amidd the skies then did she fie adowne, 
On Didos hedd wheras she gan alight : 
"This herre," quod she, "to Pluto consecrate, 
I do bereaue ; & eke the sprite vnloose 

From thie bodie." & when she had thus sayd, 935 

With her right hand she cutt the herr in twaine, 
&: therwith all the naturall heat gan quench, 
& into winde furthwith the life resolve. 



NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION 

1. See Bapst, Deux Gentilshommes — Poetes de la cour de Henry VIII 153, for full 
discussion of date of birth. 

2. Calendar State Papers, Spanish, 1529-1520, no. 228. 

3. Letters and Papers 5. no. 1626. 

4. Ibid. 

5. Let. and Pap. 16. no. 350. Bapst quotes the above from the unabriged letter. 

6. See poem 19, vs. 13-18. 

7. Cal. St. Pap.. Sp., 1529-1530, no. 425. 

8. Bapst gives 1538 as the year of this event, but on what authority I cannot find. 

9. See the notes to all three poems. 

10. Manuscript Harleian 296. f. 171, quoted by Bapst. 

11. Wriothesley, Chronicle 1. 118-120. 

12. Let. and Pap. 21. 2. no. 555. 1. 

13. Anstis, Register of the Order of the Garter 2. 423. 

14. Bapst, 249, from a manuscript of Bennet College. 

15. Bapst, 255. 

16. See poem 34, vs. 41-42. 

17. See poem 40. 

18. Bapst, 256 ff. 

19. Let. and Pap. 17 nos. 493, 542, 543, 557. 

20. See notes to poem 34. 

21. See poem 19, v. 7. 

22. Acts of the Privy Council, quoted by Bapst, 268. 

23. Sloane MS. 1523, f. 37, quoted by Bapst, 269. 

24. Let. and Pap. 18.1. no. 73. 

25. See also nos. 74, 315, 327, 347. 

26. See poem 32. 

27. Cal. St. Pap., Sp., 1542-1543, no. 259. 

28. Let. and Pap. 19.2. no. 176. 

29. See poem 47, and notes. 

30. Bapst, 316-317. 

31. See letter to Henry from Surrey, Let. and Pap. 20.2. no. 928; quoted by Bapst, 324. 

32. Let. and Pap. 20.2. no. 950 ; quoted by Bapst, 324. 

33. See letter from Thomas Hussey to Surrey, under date of Nov. 6, Let. and Pap. 
20.2 no. 738; quoted by Bapst, 319. 

34. I think Bapst is mistaken in his assertion that Surrey visited London in December 
1545 at the request of the Privy Council. He finds an allusion to this visit in the letter of 
the Council to Surrey under date of March 21, 1546 (Let. and Pap. 21.1 no. 433) : "Upon 
consideration of all such letters as have been written from thence (Boulogne) and also 
of such information as hath been gyven unto His Highness by mouth here by your Lord- 
ship." I think this refers rather to such oral reports as were made at Surrey's request 
by Sir Thomas Palmer and Sir Thomas Wyatt, as indicated in Surrey's letter of Dec. 7, 
and by Ellerker, as indicated in letter of Jan. 8, 1.546. 

(166) 



Notes to the Introduction 167 

35. Let .and Pap. 21.1. no. 33. The French historian, Mouthuc, attributed the victory 
to the conduct of the French commander, Oudart du Biez, who leapt from his horse, took 
up a pike, and thus aroused the spirit of his men. 

36. Let. and Pap. 21.1. no. 81. 

37. Poem 9. 

38. See poems 21 and 33, and notes. 

39. Let. and Pap. 20.2. no. 658. 

40. These letters are quoted in full by Nott, 207-211. 

41. Letter quoted in full by Nott, 224-227. 

42. See letter of March 15, Nott, 220. 

43. Quoted by Nott, 223. 

44. Let. and Pap. 21.1. no. 1274. 

45. Let. and Pap. 21.2. no. 555.4. 

46. As Bapst pertinently remarks, the art of heraldry did not exist until the period 
of the crusades. 

47. See MS Heralds College L., fol. 14; MS Harleian 297, fol. 256 b. 

48. See Anstis, Register of the Order of the Garter 1.175. 

49. See notes to poem 54. 

50. Let. and Pap. 21.2. no. 696, 

51. Bapst identifies this Edmund Knyvet with the Edmund Knyvet who in 1541 struck 
Thomas Clere, the friend of Surrey, within the tennis court of the King's house, and 
nearly lost his head therefor. According to the Dictionary of National Biography, how- 
ever, the Edmund Knyvet who quarreled with Clere was an uncle of Surrey's cousin and 
accuser, who died May 1, 1546. 

52. Chronicle of the Grey Friars, quoted by Bapst, 253. 

53. Let. and Pap. 21.2. no. 644. 

54. Let. and Pap. 21.2. no. 756. 

55. Let. and Pap. 21.2. no. 617. 

56. Let. and Pap. 22.2. no. 697. 

57. See Bapst, 348-349. 

58. If one will read this sonnet aloud, throwing the accents where the scansion re- 
quires, he will discover that it is pleasant to the ear and light upon the tongue. It is 
musical, and many of the words are actually more pleasing in sound with the accent thus 
thrown upon the final syllable. Wyatt had a sensitive ear, and modern readers regard 
his verse as rough largely because, expecting correspondence between the metrical accent 
and the thought and word accents, they do not read the verses as Wyatt read them. 

59. I have disregarded the poem "Brittle beautie, that nature made so fraile," as it 
is very doubtful if Surrey is the author. 

The generalization in the text applies, of course, only to those verses in which the 
accent is required to be thrown on the weak syllable of a noun in order to secure a pleasant 
and musical line. In the translations from the JF.neid there are a very large number of verses 
which, if scanned mechanically, would show the accent resting upon the weak syllables of 
nouns, verbs, and adjectives. But Surrey appreciated that the very genius of blank verse 
as an effective narrative medium, aiming at naturalness and vividness of incident and con- 
versation, now hastening and now retarding the movement of the story and ever avoiding 
monotony, requires the relief of the verse by the occasional use of feet other than the 
iambus, especially the trochee; the iambus being merely the norm around which the verse 
plays. 



TABLE OF ABBREVIATIONS 

A. — Additional Ms. 28635. 

D.— Additional Ms. 17492. 

D. — Day, John. The Fourth Book of Virgill. 

Dg. — Douglas, Gawin, Works of. 

E. — Egerton Ms. 2711. 

H. — Ms. Har grave 205. 

Harl. — Ms. Harleian 78. 

Hip. — Hippolito de Medici, Translation of ^^neid, Book 2. 

K. — Koeppel, E. Studien zur Geschichte des Bnglischen Petrarchismus. 

Eb. — Nicolo Liburnio. Translation of ^^neid, Book 4. 

N. — Nott, George Frederick, The Works of Surrey. 

P.— Additional Ms. 36529. 

PI. — Piccolomini, Bartolommeo Carli, Translation of Mneid, Book 4. 

S. — Surrey. 

T. — Tottel, Songes and Sonettes, or Certain Bokes of Virgiles Mneis. 

v.— Virgil. 



(168) 



TEXTUAL NOTES 
1 

T., p. 10. — Title : A complaint by night of the loner not beloued. 

2 

T., p. 4. — 8 second ed. flete. — Title : Description of Spring, wherin eche thing renewes, 

saue onelie the louer. 

3 

P. 55b. — 10 omitted, probably through carelessness ; I have supplied the v. conjecturally, 

from the suggestion of the corresponding v. in T. 

T.'s version (12) differs radically: 

I neuer sawe my Ladye laye apart 

Her cornet blacke, in colde nor yet in heate, 

Sith first she knew my griefe was growen so great, 

Which other fansies driueth from my hart 

That to my selfe I do the thought reserue, 

The which vnwares did wounde my wofull brest: 

But on her face mine eyes mought neuer rest. 

Yet, sins she knew I did her loue and serue 

Her golden tresses cladde alway with blacke, 

Her smilyng lokes that hid thus euermore, 

And that restraines whiche I desire so sore. 

So dothe this cornet gouerne me alacke: 

In somer, sunne: in winters breath, a frost: 

Wherby the light of her faire lokes I lost. 

— Title: Complaint that his ladie after she knew of his loue kept her face alway 

hidden from him. 

4 

P. 55b^6 doubful. 

Variants in, T. (8) : 1 that liueth and reigneth in. — 2 That built. — 7 cloke. — 10 whereas 

he lurkes and plaines. — 12 paynes. — 14 his death, takes his. — Title : Complaint of a 

louer rebuked. 

5 

P. 56a. — Foil by H. S. — 9 snow altered from sone, same hand . 

Variants in T. (9) : 4 fired flame.— 9 An other so colde in frozen yse. — Title: Complaint 

of the louer disdained. 

6 

P. 57a. T. (11) reads cus follows: 

Set me w^heras the sunne doth parche the grene. 

Or where his beams do not dissolue the yse; 

In temperate heate where he is felt and sene; 

In presence prest of people madde or wise. 

Set me in hye, or yet in lowe degree: 

In longest night, or in the shortest daye: 

In clearest skye, or ■where clowdes thickest be: 

In lusty youth, or when my heeres are graye. 

Set me in heauen, in earth, or els in hell. 

In hyll, or dale, or in the fomying flood: 

Thrall, or at large, aliue where so I dwell: 

Sicke, or in health: in euyll fame, or good. 

Hers will I be, and onely with this thought 

Content my selfe, although my chaunce be nought. 

Title: Vow to loue faithfully howsoeur he be rewarded. 

7 
T., p. 10. — Title : The f railtie and hurtfulness of beautie. 

(169) 



170 The Poems of Surrey 

8 

T., p. 12. — Title : Request to his loue to ioj^ne bountie with beautie. 

9 

T., p. 32. — Title : The f ansie of a weried louer. 

10 
P. 56b.— Foil, by H. S. 
Found also in H., with the variants: — 3 shall ensue. 

11 

P. 50a.— Fall, by Ffinis, H. S.— 19-20 supplied fr. 7.-22 might.— 28 yet replaced by it 
above, later hand. — 44 t in atgaas seems to replace some earlier letter. — 45 she inserted by 
later hand. — 52. or. 

Found also in A\24a\. and H{115'\., with the variants: — 1 A. the tender grene kicking. — 
10-40 A. lacking, due to mutilation of Ms. — 19-20 H. lacking. — 25 H. stirs. — 44 A. H. 
suck. — 51 A. good will.— 53 A. fele the wownd yet greene. 

Variants in T[l\.: — 1 his tender. — 4 new. — 8 the shade. — 10 mine. — 13 hath. — 14 time 
in time. — 15 in time. — 17 kindes. — 18-19 the couplet in the text. — 21 all thing. — 22 night. — 
23 it self. — 25 tormentes. — 26 and curse. — 27 opprest.— 28 it doth. — 29 trauailes. — Zi lest 
by my chere my chance appere to playn. — 34 in my minde. — 35 the place. — 36 the lace. — 
44 agazed. — 51 of my tene. — Title: Description of the restlesse state of a louer, with sute 
to his ladie, to rue on his diyng hart. 

12 

T., p. 21. — Title : To the Ladie that scorned her louer. 

13 
T., p. 14. — Title: The louer comforteth himself with the worthinesse of his loue. 

14 

P. 52b. — 19 straynith altered from (?) straynneth. — 25-29 lacking; supplied from T. 

Variants in T[24].: sts. 2, 5, and 8 lacking. 
— 13 First when, those. — 14 my mortall. — 15 within her. 22 and blinde Cupide did whippe.— 
31 in paine to put. — 32 mine vnrest. — Title : The louer describes his restlesse state. 

IS 

P. 54a. — Foil, by Ffinis, H. S. — 9 sightes. — 27 e of blynde doubt fuL — 28 sparskled. 

Variants in T[5].: — 2 me causde. — 6 misguiding me had led the way. — 7 mine eyen. — 
8 had made me lose a better. — 9 sighes. — 10 with game. — 11 the boiling smoke.— 12 the 
persaunt heate of secrete flame. — 13 doe bayne. — 15 her bewty hath the fruites. — 22 glowing 
red. — 24 wherin. — Title : Description of the restlesse state of a louer. 

16 
T., p. 22. — 27 second ed. troules. — Title : The forsaken louer describeth and for- 
saketh loue. 

17 
T., p. 24. — Title : The louer excuseth himself of suspected change. 

18 
T., p. 20. — 21 second ed. by lawe of kinde. — Title: A praise of his loue: wherin he 
reproueth them that compare their L,adies with his. 

19 
T., p. 217- — Title: The constant louer lamenteth. 



Textual Notes 171 

20 

Found in Harl. 30b; and in T(241)., where the poem is not assigned to Surrey. -As 
each of these versions appears corrupt, the text has been compiled from the two. 

Variants in Harl: — 3 the foyle. — 4 to say.— 7 to repent. — 9 raginge will, wanton youthe. 
— 13 heaven. — 17 his. — 18 for. — 21 now ther. — 23 is good. — 25-30 wanting.— Fo//. by Ffinis. 

Variants in T. : — 7 to finde. — 10 Which we haue. — 11 From Sicilla to Caribdis cliues. — 
Title: The louer disceiued by his love repenteth him of the true loue he bare her. 

21 

T., p. 15. — Found also in D. 55a, zvhere the hand is very slovenly, words, and even lines, 
being scratched out, to be replaced by slightly different spellings. Variants: — 8 a shepe, 
remiemberances. — 9 wordes. — 10 guvernances. — 12 wante off. — 25 nyghtes. — 30 sswalle by 
rayges. — 32 assales.— 38 makes me to playne. — 40 my mowrtht. — Title: Complaint of the 
absence of her louer being upon the sea. 

The first stanza is in Harl (30b). 

22 

P. 53a. — I wais replaces wailes later hand. — 12 do inserted, same hand. — 30 his crossed 
out and replaced by dn, later hand. — 31-32 wanting; supplied from A.— 36 e of colde doubtful 

Found also in A[26a\, with the variants: — 1 wayes. — 2 wills doth. — 5 and causeth. — 
11 me lacking. — 13 and lettes. — 21 dead. — 22 cheekes. — 30 in fume. — 31-32 couplet in the 
text. — 35 lover. — 41 the fyer. — 43 a yolden. — 44 mashe. — 46 glyntt. 

Variants in T[6].: — 1 waies. — 2 doe. — 4 whom. — 5 He makes the one to rage. — 6 other. 
— 10 a depe dark hel. — 11 and me withholdes — 12 willes me that my. — 14 were lost. — 15 
So, may turne. — 17 content my self. — 19 harmes, dissembling. — 24 wote. — 30 in fimie. — 31-32 
the couplet: and though he list to se his ladies grace ful sore,/such pleasures as delight 
the eye doe not his health restore. — 36 (alas who would beleue?). — 39 with others help. 
— 42 I bume, I wast, I leze. — 43 a yelding. — 45 or els with seldom swete to season. — 48 
wil printe. — 49 the slipper, the sodain. — 50 the doubtful, the certain.— TiY/^ : Description 
of the fickle affections panges and sleightes of loue. 

23 

T., p. 7. — Variants in the second ed. : — 6 woes. — 34 vnwittingly. — 39 I. — 41 expressed. 
— Title : Complaint of a louer, that defied loue, and was by loue after the more tormented. 

24 

T., p. 16. — Variants : — 73 first ed. had ; second ed. hath. — Title : Complaint of a dying 
louer refused vpon his ladies iniust mistaking of his writyng. 

25 
T., p. 22. — 1 second ed. my well beloued. — Title : A warning to the louer how he is 
abused by his loue. 

26 
T., p. 26. — 1 second ed. walkt. — 3 all eds. read howl. — 12 Ye for yet. — 14 first ed. go, 
second ed. grow. — Title : A careless man, scorning and describing, the suttle vsage of 
women towarde their louers. 

27 

A. 23a. — Foil, by Ffinis. — 13 slyttes. — 27 stykes. — 30 and before eke inserted; same hand 
— 32 them inserted; same hand. 

Variants in T. [198] : 6 seke for to take. — 7 Whose practise yf were proued. — 8 
Asseuredly beleue it well it were to great.— 10 could.— 14 full well.— 16 With will.— 17 
had ioynde.— 21-38 missing.— Title: Of the dissembling louer. T. attributes it to an "un- 
icertain author". 



172 The Poems of Surrey 

28 
T., p. 220. — Title : The f aithfull louer declareth his paines and his vncertain ioies, 
and with only hope recomforteth somwhat his wofull heart. 

29 

P. 55a. — Poll, by H. S.— 6 an inserted before erle, diff. hand. — 11 furst inserted; same 
hand. — 13 of kind replaces orig. her mate or: her mace. 

Variants in T(9).: — 6 an erle.— 8 no article, tasteth costly. — 13 Her beauty. — 14 can.--— 
Title : Description and praise of his loue Geraldine. 

30 

P. 55a. — Poll, by H. S. — orig. plat. — 12 before distill stands doth, crossed out. — 14 have 
altered from half ; hand uncertain. 

31 

P. 51a. — Poll, by Ffinis, H. S. — 49 Eache ; reading supplied from T. — 54 in releif , 
it looks as if the writer* started to make a y, and then altered it to i. 

Pound also in H[117],; no variants. 

Variants in T[13\.: — 9 seates. — 16 leads. — 19 though one should another whelme. — 23 
trayned with. — 29 holtes. — 32 of force. — 33 wide vales eke. — 40 night. — 47 doest.— 49 Eccho. 
— Titles Prisoned in Windsor, he recounteth his pleasure there passed. 

32 

P. 52a.— Poll, by Ffynis, H. H.— 10 lest.— 22 Sceptures.— 61 they. 
Pound also in A[25a]., zvith the variant: — 66 vnto thie rightuous. 

33 

A. 31a. — Poll, by Ffinis. Preston. — 15-16 lacking. — 30 Bearkes.— 31 fyndes. 

Variants in T[19\.: 11 Whome I was wont tembrace with well contended minde. — 12 
winde. — 13 Where, well him, sone him home me. — 15-16 couplet in text.— \7 oft times do 
greue. — 18 that when I wake I lye in doute where. — 19 me semes do grow. — 20 dere Lord 
ay me alas me thinkes I see him die. — 21 with his faire little sonne. — 24 I say welcome 
my lord. — 30 breake, huge vnrest. — 31 finde. — 34 sum hidden place, wherein to slake the 
gnawing of my mind. — 36 no cure I find, good return. — 37 saue whan I think, by sowre. — 
39 and then vnto my self I say when we shall meete. — 40 litle while, the ioy. — 41 I you 
coniure. — 43 this excesse.— Ti7/e : Complaint of the absence of her louer being vpon the sea. 

34 

A. 27a. — Poll, by Ffinis. 

Variants in T[218].: 2 can shew. — 3 I late. — 5 the gentle, it pleased. — 6 he semed 
well. — 10 of fresher. — 11 were coy. — 12 vnto the which. — 17 With that she. — 20 nor al. — 
22 go range. — 23 With that he. — 25 his wrath. — 35 your self haue heard. — 37 both omitted. 
— 40 to lese hjs life. — 41 whose Hues. — 42 their willes preserued ar, right omitted. — 43 But 
now I doe, it moueth. — 47 our kyndes. — 48 your frendes. — 49 am fled. — 52 on such. — 53 
coyed. — 54 be trapt, with such. — 55 lust to loue. — .56 of currant sort. — 60 nor lure nor. — 64 
this your refuse. — 65 And for reuenge therof. — 66 I thousand. — 69 bent and bow. — 70 
sailes. — 72 with bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple shepe I say.— Title: A song 
written by the earle of Surrey to a lady that refused to daunce with him. 

35 

P. 63a. 

Pound also in A [28b]., without variants. 

36 
P. 63b., — 1 sonnden. 
Pound also in A {29b)., zvithout variants. 



TicxTUAL Notes 173 

37 

T., p. 31. — 8 first ed. his prison ; second ed. this prison. — Title : Bonum est mihi quod 
humihasti me. 

38 

P. 56a. — Foil by H. S. — 6 Spalmes. — 13 yprinted altered from imprinted, same hand. 

Found also in E[85h]., zvithout variants. 

Variants in T[28].: 3 dan Homers. — 13 imprinted. — 14 ought. — Title: Praise of certain 
psalms of David, translated by Sir. T. W. the elder. 

39 
T. p. 32.— Title : Exhortacion to learne by others trouble. 

40 
P. 56b.— Foil, by H. S. 

Variants in T(30).: — 1 Thassirian.— 3 on fire. — 4 Did yeld, vanquisht. — 5 dint. — 10 
and womanish. — 11 impacient. — Title: Of Sardinapalus dishonorable life and miserable death. 

41 

P. 54b. — Foil, by H. S. — 8 contynvance altered from contenaunce, same hand. — 12 sov- 
eranty altered from soventy, same hand. 

Variants in T[27].: 1 that do.— 5 no strife. — 10 trew wisdom ioyned with simplenesse. 
— 12 the wit may not oppresse. — 13 the faithful wife, without. — 16 ne wish for death, ne. 
— Title: The meanes to attain happy life. 

42 

T., p. 27. — Title : Praise of meane and constant estate. 

Found also in Harl {29a)., where the poem is subjected to rather elaborate correc- 
tions, in the same hand, but in different ink. Variants in the original ms. version : 1 the 
compas.— 3 forshunnj^nge. — 5 Who gladly halsethe. — 7 dene vnplayne. — 9 The lustyer pyne 
the greatter wyndes oft it rues. — 10 sueight; falne omitted. — 11 And lyghtninges assalyt 
hiegh mountaynes & cleves. — 12 A hoort well scholed in ouer hartes depe. — 13 ameniment; 
ferethe. — 14 Wynter smarte. — 16 Bowe vnbent shall cease & vuice frame to sharpe. — 17 In 
streight estate appere thou hardie and stoute. — 18 when full vnlucky. — 20 rief. Foil, by 
Ffinis. 

Variants in the revised ms. version : 1 this. — 4 Lest on. — 5 enhalsethe. — 9 it omitted. 
— 10 sueightes fall. — 13 Hopes amendment. — 14 sharpe. 

43 
A. 26a, — Foil, by Ffinis. 

Vat^nts in T(30).: 4 doth.— 16 dented chewes. — Title: How no age is content with 
his own estate, and how the age of children is the happiest, if they had skill to understand it. 

44 

P. 56b.— Foil, by H. S. 

Variants in T(218).: 1 knowledge was not rife. — 2 other were. — 3 conuert. — 4 wende. 
— 5 yet no voyde. — 12 we led to vertues traine. — 13 brestes. — 14 they do eate. — Title: A 
praise of Sir Thomas Wyate th[e] elder for his excellent learning. 

45 
P. 57a. — Foil by H. S. A note reads "Here ende my" L,d. of Surreys Poems." Variant 
in T (28).: 2 thy liuely bed.— Title: Of the death of the same Sir T. W. 

46 
T., p. 29.— Title : Of the same. 



174 The Poems of Surrey 

47 

Camden's Remains, p. 514. — 2 high. — 12 seven times seven. 

Found also in John Aubrey, History of Surrey 5.247, zv>ith the variant : — 2 Count, thou. 

48 
P. 58b. — 27 straunge replaced by all; hand uncertain. — 31 I replaces some erased word; 
hand uncertain. — 39 therby. — Foil, by Fenis. 

Found also in A (32a)., with the foil, variants: — 16 dischargde. — 27 all thinges under. 

49 
P. 59a.— 22 times. — 43 ligh(t)some. — 54 r(e)garde. — 79 hards. — 82m(a)y. Foil, by Finis. 
Found also in A (32b)., with the foil, variants: — 9 I mynd. — 22 tewnes. — 26 so. — 72 
the broken sleapes. — 74 frewte or with paynes. 

50 

P. 59b. — 10 reuiues replaces reioyce; diff. hand. — 33 seke. — 43 sore orig. fore. — 44 
wheras that replaced by eke wher; diff. hand. — 55 hathe ether geuen to man revised to 
hath geuen to ether man; diff. hand. — 66 fore inserted; hand uncertain. — Foil, by Finis. 

Found also in A (33b)., with the foil, variants: — 44 where. — 51 This errour. 

51 

P. 61a., — 13 earles folke; ease replaces cache; prob. same hand. — 22 the trauill.— 26 
spends. — 34 thre fould inserted; diff. hand. — 45 change replaced by deth; diff. hand. — 58 re 
of unsaureth inserted; prob. diff. hand. 
goe. — 54 yolden ghost. 

Found also in A (34b)., with the foil, variants: — 13 throught sloothe and carelesse. — 44 
goe. — 54 volden ghost. 

52 

P. 62a. — 4 fayth, not alt. to none; hand uncertain. — 15 er of better crossed out. — 17 
words alt. to works; hand uncertain. — 27 out alt. to outer; prob. another hand; our: ms. 
note by Percy. — 29 the replaced by to; hand uncertain. — 32 toiling inserted before hand, 
then itself replaced by tillers, diff. hands. — 35 hordith: ms. note by Percy. — 43 gredy re- 
placed by righteous ; gredy a clerical error through anticipation of the word later in the 
line.— 48 armes : ms. note by Percy; furst alt. to fyrst. — 50 boote : 7ns. note by Percy. — 52 
that that alt. to that those, and again to then that ; diff. hands. — 61 ne replaced by no ; diff. 
hand. — Foil, by Finis. 

Found also in A (34a), with the foil, variants: — 4 none prevayle. — 14 lustes. — 15 bet. 
— 17 workes. — 27 withouten. — 28 our secreat. — 29 to lyving. — 48 armes of povertie. 

53 
A. 28a. Latin title supplied. — 34 list inserted. — Foil, by Finis. 

54 

p_ (55o_ — 7 of dred inserted after cold, diff. hand. — 11 e inserted in spady; i of thei 
replaces orig. n, same hand; later, altered to they; diff. hand. — 15 kept the walles altered to 
do keep walles; diff. hand or hands. — 16 whiles myscheif altered to whiles myscheif eke and 
later to myscheif ioyn^rd.— 18 then replaced by ne; diff. hand. — 20 not replaced by for; 
diff. hand. — 21 not crossed out; diff. hand. — 26 them hell altered to, hym hele; diff. hand. — 
47 phalme. — Preceded by Exaudi Deus Orationem Meam. — Foil, by Finis. 

Found also in A (30b)., zvith the foil, variants: — 2 herken. — 16 and myschief joynede. 
—18 ne my.— 26 hym self devoure.— 29 aulture.— T/te Latin line foil, by id est, cast thie care 
uppon the Lord and he shall norishe the. 



Textual Notes 173 

55 
p 63a.— 27 h\?iSitd.— Preceded hy Domine Deus Salutis. Foil, by Finis. 
Found also in A (28b)., with the foil, variants: — 4 as in.— 9 me cast.— 17 do.— 24 thie 
praise.— 26 nor. — 27 blazed, mowthes. — 44 to my. 

56 

p 64a.— \4 glutten alt. to glutted; diff. hand.— 17 that frame.— 18 final s of skourges 
crossed out.— 2S doth inserted after lord; diff. hand.— 27 inquititye.— 30 affects.— 47 fleshe 
alt. to fleece; diff. hand.— 49 rare alt. to care; diff. hand— Preceded by Quum Bonus Israel 
Deus. — Foil, by Finis. 

Found also in A (29b)., with the foil, variants: — 14 glutted.— 18 sckourdge.— 22 with 
cupps.— 33 beholde.— 35 and whan. — 47 goolden fleece. — 59 others succours. 

57 
Headed: The second boke of Virgiles Aenaeis.— 147 pleased.— 284 twine.— 327 fouth. 
—335 Foil, by line: By cordes let fal fast gan they slide adown.— 924 felow.— 926 hue.- 
962 amazde. A^. emends to read could make amazed. — 987 ccompanie. — 1026 mine wanting. 

58 
H. headed : P. Vergilii Maronis Aeneidos Liber Quartus Britannice Sermoni Donatus 
per Comitem S. — H. 8 Gloss: The description of the tyme. — H. 10 Gloss: The talke of a 
lover.— H. 15 of how — H. 31 Gloss: A calling upon the godes, wherin, by reasons advice, 
she requires to resist yis force of love. — T. 54 forthrust.— H. 56 move before touch crossed 
out.—U. 58 sufferance.— H. 72 with ofifred steres.— T. 88 to omitted.— T. 92 fight.— H. 
106 he she heres. — H. 107 with hold before she crossed out. — H. 109 them.— H. 116 fame 
resist to.— H. 120 wills.— H. 128 then (them?) commend.— T. 141 at for art.— H. 163 soone. 
— T. 222 faut.— H. 226 strengh.— H. 247 line supplied from T.—H. 266 rich replaces with 
K'-rcssed out. — H. 281 hedd before looke crossed out. — H. 304 ou. — H. 315 awaie before amidd 
crossed ouf.-T. 327 thend.— T. 334 the omitted.— H. 346 Whi buildest; th crossed out; thy 
lime supplied from T. — T. 347 he omitted. — H. 349 before lust some letter crossed out. 
— H. 360 to leave supplied from T.—H. 379 fleight.— H. 383 flame.— H. 392 lengh.-H. 
428 lenghe. — H. 433 these wordes. — T. 435 sielfe. — T. 439 men. — T. 441 men for me in. — H. 
441 life before, will crossed out. — T. 433 haue haue. — T. 447 thee for the. — H. 455 shadowe. 
— H. 469 pronowne.. — T. 475 silence. — H. 489 now before lo crossed out. — T. 505 thase. 
H. 506 I this. — H. 522 the kele talowed. — H. 558 ne pulled replaces aye; same hand. — H. 
561 originally grauntes. — H. 583 rore. — H. 584 ther croppes. — H. 610 her corrected from 
his. — H. 622 seking. — H. 625 se crossed out after within. — H. 638 Hesperians. — H. 639 
garden. — H. 659 man instead of nonne. — H. 663 men. — H. 673 funeralls. — H. 67S iiiiC. — H. 
698 quiest, — H. 762 gett before Awake crossed out.—H. 765 wretched. — H. 770 vnshethles. — 
H. 787 all before owt crossed out. H. 796 I before not crossed out.—T. 797 So.— T. 798 goodes. 
H. 807 says instead of sunne.— H. 830 ( ?) yea.— H. 835 line supplied from T.—H. 853 for 
A instead of forth on. — T. 855 herforme. — H. 864 in before wepinge crossed out. — H. 871 
towne before alas crossed out. — H. 874 quod she above; same hand. — H. 882 handes & 
before eke crossed out and inserted after it. — T. 885 damsell. — H. 905 & before eke crossed 
out.—H. 906 thi before her crossed out. — H. 915 a of raise inserted above. — H. followed 
by finis. 



176 The Poems of Surrey 

Variants in D 

(The follotving table gives all the readings in D. zvhich vary from the readings in T. 
The verses are numbered as in T.) 

26 Ay me, since, Sicheus. — 27 fewde defiled. — 28 he hath mj' sences bent. — 32 with 
thunder or. — 34 or, lawe. — 36 My love which (?) still enjoye he in grave. — 37 surprised. — 
41 That, nor.— 42 Doeth dust. — 44 larbas not to feere. — 45 The Libian king dyspised yet 
by thee. — 48 wythstande the love that likes thee. — 49 Omits. — 50 in. — 52 And for eke. — 53 
Wyth Syrtes the unfriendly. — 54 for thurste. — 67 starre. — 73 as they ought. — 84 omits A, 
maryes. — 88 yshotte. — 90 fasteneth in her unware. — 91 left in her unwist. — 96 the. — 98 
Troians. — 99 stared. — 101 reprysed the dayelyght. — 106 withholdes. — 107 Ascanus, — lOS adds 
that before cannot. — 111 omits mete. — 113 threatning to. — 114 in effect. — 115 Wyth a pes- 
tilence. — 116 burdeneth for burdes. — 119 wylles. — 121 to suspect. — 126 loves and burnes, 
the rage her bones doth perse. — 127 is then now common. — 130 dowry. — 132 from desmem- 
bled mind. — 140 in a. — 149 The forest till. — 152 Dum trepidant ale. — 153 The raungcr doth 
set the groues about. — 154 omits I shall. — 155 on them. — 162 seem to graunt. — 163 fast. — 166 
Unto. — 171 there the Quene awayte. — 174 backed with a grete rout. — 177 wounde up in. — 
189 omits that. — 190 he prest. — 194 in countenance present— 198 whereas theyr course. — 199 
trompes. — 204 tymerous. — 209 coltage. — 210 arounde. — 211 the Troyan prince likewyse. — 
216 wayted. — 217 foremest day of myrthe. — 218 myshappe. — 219 withheld. — 226 on hye. — 
227 Perecing the. — 231 omits. — 232 for to tell. — 233 For, plume. — 236 barkening. — 237 cloudes 
and skie. — 239 delyne instead of decline.— 240 see. — 242 omits as, blasting. — 247 Aeneas 
comen sprong of Troyan bloode. — 249 In Natures lust the winter for to passe. — 250 
Regnorum immemores turpique. — 251 cupidine captos. — 252 the mouthes. — 256 ravisht Gara- 
mantida. — 257 temples in his large realme. — 258 lacking. — 259 Altars as many with waker 
burning flame.— 260 to attend. — 261 Flowers embrused yelded bloode of beastes. — 263 
bryntes. — 264 Afore the aulters. — 269 the for thy.— 270 Whose flames of fyre. — 271 A 
wandring woman. — 272 village. — 278 the. — 282 And with his loke gan thwart. — 289 reporte. 
— 292 but Italye to rule. — 293 lacking. — 295 Discovering, tencryne. — 299 doth he envy. — 
300 To yong Ascanus that is his father.— 305 omits and end. — 306 messenger, Then Mer- 
curie gan. — 307 When Jove had said, bend.— 310 the. — 312 other some also. — 313 thyther he 
sendes; line differently divided. — 318 And. — 320 sholders. — 321 forcrowne. — 324 frosted 
beard. — 326 wyth the body. — 327 extent. — 330 Rushing. — 334 For towers. — 337 lacking. — 
339 His shyning pawle of myghty Didos gifte. — 343 a maryed man. — 345 skies bright. — 
345 that by.— 348 there.— 349 Why buildest thou, by.-350 thus wastes.— 352 lystes.— 358 
vanysheth. — 364 By the advise. — 367 dare. — 369 discussing. — 374 drewe. — 376 change of 
thinges, ascuse. — 380 chasten. — 387 shippe. — 389 Bachus munite. — 390 Bacchatur — Cithaeron. 
— (Virgil's lines 301-3 quoted instead of any translation corresponding to T. 390-4). — 395 
thus hordes she AE. of herself. — 396 flyght instead of fault. — 401 Cruel, to trie, boysterous. 
—403 omits yet. — 413 The Libians and Tirians, tyrans of Nomadane. — 414 ar wrothe. — 
415 My shamefastnes eke stained for thy cause. — 417 came. — 421 To tary till. — 424 the, 
conceyved. — 426 To play. — 431 These wordes yet at last then forth. — 436 synowes. — 437 
It is not grete the thyng that I requyre. — 438 Neyther. — 441 omits me in. — 444 redout. — • 
446 escaped. — 450 wyll me advise. — 451 lease. — 453 of Phoenis land. — 456 resydence. — 457 it 
is. — 461 doth me feare and advise. — 463 Hisprian. — 475 sylence; same misprint. — 477 thy 
dame ne Goddes was. — 479 Tancase. — 487 There is no fayth, so surety. — 489 adds foolyshe 
before eke. — 492 am. — 494 adds the before Gods — 503 byre. — 500 thys— 521 To wayle. — 
522 By the etc.— 525 charged. — 526 adds the before wood. — 529 buige.— 537 syghtes. — 542 
and. — 543 and yeld. — 544 omits and. — 548 strayned sayle abideth. — 552 nevertheless; adds 
a befoite wretched. — 554 and eke. — 557 in. — 561 ay. — 563 for to entreat. — 564 hys. — 576 
well-rendred.— 577 Myngled.— 578 bryng.— 580 He barkens though that he were mylde of 
kynde. — 581 Destenies. — 582 boysterous. — 584 Blowing now from this, now from that quarter, 



Textual Notes 177 

blow.— 587 hys— 589 hys.— 590 as, hys.— 595 Wyshed, yrketh.— 601 geare.-602 Which syght, 
not. — 607 Wher oft. — 608 Clypping. — 609 complajiie. — 610 to dray his playning tunes. — 614 be- 
straught. — 615 omits left. — 616 Unwayted on. — 617 folkes. — 626 hughly. — 632 omits a. — 
635 thende of the great Octian. — 636 the sun dyscendeth and declynes. — 641 Of the Hysperiane 
sisters temple. — 642 lacking. — 643 The garden that gyves the Dragon food. — 645 (?). 
poppy that slepe provokes.— 651 The gostes that walk by night eke to assemble. — 653 fall. 
— 655 omits to me.— 671 Then, Sicheus. — 672 lacking. — 673 But the Quene when the stake was 
reared up. — 676 then she doth. — 678 forsooke. — 679 on hys. — 684 eke. — 685 omits and eke; 
Proserpina. — 688 Like unto the. — 689 reaped up. — 691 Theyr. — 700 Of lovers unequall in 
behest. — 707 longes remaynde. — 709 that. — 713 might rest in eye nor brest cold enter.— 714 
omits doth. — 719 nunned. — 726 Or scorned me. — 728 doest thou wotte. — 729 Or smell the 
broken othes. — 733 with Ire. — 737 omits first. — 739 Did, wyshe. — 734 Sicheus. — 744 com- 
plaint. — 745 certayne. — 756 Certayne of death. — 757 flye. — 759 staid all.— 761 onsyde.. — 762 
omits For. — 765 from. — 768 Joue. — 777 wrest. — 782 creking. — 783 the added before navye. — 
785 three. — 787 hence. — 791 and added before out; othenvise like T. — 796 when thou with 
hym devydedst.— 797 The Scepture.— 798 goodes.— 810 fall myself theyr.— 812 knowes.— 815 
adds eke after furies. — 822 omits it. — 832 unburyed. — 839 Now; omits that our. — 843 lacking. 
—844 over.— 845 thys.— 846 then briefly.— 855 Is to reform.— 859 all egerly.— 871 desteny did 
permytte. — 877 Troian. — 886 the. — 887 The bolyng bloud with gore and handes embrued. — 
890 lamenting. — 892 auncient towne. — 899 And dyeng thus she cleapes her. — 907 Or. — 908 As 
cruel for to absent.— 910 at Tyre.— 916 geare.— 917 But, stravc.— 919 under.— 932 adds yet 
after not. — 939 adds eke after and. 



CRITICAL NOTES 



1 

Adapted from Petrarca Sonetto tn Vita 113: 

Or che '1 del e la terra e '1 vento tace, 

E le fere e gli augelli 11 sonno affrena, 

Notte '1 carro stellate in giro mena, 

E nel suo letto 11 mar senz'onda g-iace; 

Veggio, penso, ardo, piango; e chi ml sface 

Sempre m' 6 innanzi per mia dolce pena: 

Guerra 6 '1 mio stato, d'ira e di duol plena; 

E sol di lei pensando ho qualche pace. 

Cos! sol duna chiara fonte vi\'a 

Move '1 dolce e I'amaro ond'io mi pasco; 

Una man sola mi risana e punge. 

B perchg '1 mio martir non giunga a riva, 

Mille volte il di moro e mille nasco 

Tanto dalla salute mia son lunge. 



Surrey's sonnet, with its abrupt opening, its more dramatic antithesis, and its superior 
interpretation of nature, is much the finer of the two. The opening verses, and especially 
the noble fifth verse, are prophetic of the Georgian poets. 



Adapted from Petrarca Sonclto in Morte 42 : 

Zefiro torna, e '1 bel tempo rimena, 

E i flori e I'erbe, sua dolce famiglia, 

E garrir Progne e pianger Filomena. 

E primavera Candida e vermiglia. 

Ridono i prati, e '1 ciel si rasserena; 

Giove s'allegra di mirar sua figlia; 

L'aria e I'acqua e la terra $ d'amor piena; 

Ogni animal d'amar si riconsiglia. 

Ma per nie, lasso, tornano i pi a gravi 

Sospiri, che dal cor profondo tragge 

Quella ch' al Ciel se ne port6 le chiavi; 

E cantare augelletli, e fiorir piagge, 

B 'n belle donne oneste atti soavi, 

Sono un deserto, e fere aspre e selvagge. 

Petrarca's spring is typically Itahan with its smiling plains and serene sky, and 
Zephyrus and Venus are introduced as in the beautiful spring pieces of Botticelli. Surrey's 
sonnet is as typically English with its green-clad hills and dales, its blossoming hedgerows 
and shady streams. It is the spring of Chaucer's Prologue and of such lyrics as Sumer 
is icumen in. Note that Surrey minimizes the lover's complaint to dwell longer upon nature. 

10. Cf. Parliament of Foules 353 : The swallow, murderer of the bees smale. 



Translated from Petrarca Ballata 1 : 

Lassare 11 velo o per Sole o per ombra, 

Donna, non vi vid'io, 

Poi che'n me conosceste il gran desio 

Ch' ogni altra voglia d' entr' al cor mi sgombra, 

Mentr'io portava i be' pensier celati 

C'hanno la mente desiando morta, 

Vldivi di pietate ornare 11 volto: 

Ma poi oh'Amor di me vi fece accorta, 

Fur i biondi capelli allor velati, 

E I'amoroso sguardo in se raccolto. 

Quel ch' i' pill desiava in vol, m' 6 tolto; 

Si mi governa il velo, 

Che per mia morte, ed al caldo ed al gelo. 

De' be' vostr' occhi il dolce lume adombra. 



(179) 



180 The Poems of Surrey 



Translated from Pet. Son. in Vita 91 : 

Amor, che nel pensier mio vive e regna, 
E '1 suo seggio maggior nel mio cor tene, 
Talor armato nella fronte vene, 
Ivi si loca ed ivi pon sua insegna. 
Quella ch' amare e sofferir ne 'nsegna, 
E vuol che '1 gran desio, 1' accesa spene, 
Ragion, vergogna e reverenza affrene; 
Di nostro ardir fra se stessa si sdenga. 
Onde Amor paventoso fugge al core, 
Lassando ogni sua impresa, e piagne e trema; 
Ivi s' asconde, e non appar pitl fore. 
Che poss'io far, tremendo il mio Signore, 
Se non star seco infln all'ora estrema? 
Che hel fin fa chi ben amando more. 

The translation is more lively and dramatic than the original. By careful compression 
Surrey is able to add the thought that Love's arms are those "wherein with me he fought," 
thus securing later the fine contrast between the ease with which Love subdued the lover and 
his ignominious flight from the presence of the lady. 

It is interesting to compare Wyatt's translation of the same sonnet, a transla- 
tion which is vigorous, but rough : 

The longe love, that in my thought doeth harbor. 

And in my hert doetli kepe his residence, 

Intoo my face preaseth with bolde pretence. 

And therin campeth, spreding his baner. 

She that mee lerns too love and suffre. 

And willes that in my trust and lustes negligence 

Be rayned by reason, shame & reverence, 

With his hardines takis displeasur. 

"Where with all, untoo the herte forrest hee fleith, 

Leving his enterprise, with payne & cry. 

And there him hideth & not appereth. 

What may I doo, when my maister fereth. 

But, in the felde, with him too lyve & dye, 

For goods is the liffe ending faithfully. — (Edgerton Ms. 5a.) 

S 
This fancy may have been suggested by Ariosto's Orlando Furioso 1.78: 

K Questo hanno causato due fontane 
Che di diverso effetto hanno liquore; 
Ambe in Ardenna, e non sono lontane. 
D' amoroso desio 1' una empie il core; 
Chi bee de 1' altra senza amor rimane, 
B volge tutto in ghiaccio il primo ardore. 
Rinaldo gust6 d' una, e amor lo strugge; 
Angelica de 1' altra, a 1' odia e fugge. 

Rajna, Le Fonti dell' Orlando Furioso 93-95 (1900) discusses at length the Italian and 

Classical analogues. 

6 

Translated from Pet. Son. in Vita 95 : 

Ponmi ove '1 Sol occide 1 flori e I'erba, 
O dove vince lui '1 ghiaccio e la neve; 
Ponmi ov' & '1 carro suo temprato e leve, 
Ed ov' § chi eel rende o chi eel serba, 
Ponm' in umil fortuna, od in superba, 
Al dolce aere sereno, al fosco e greve; 
Ponmi alia notte, al di lungo ed al breve, 
Alia matura etate od all' acerba; 
Ponm' in ciolo od in terra od in abisso, 
In alto poggio, in valle ima e palustre, 
Libero spirto od a' suoi membri afflsso; 
Ponmi con fama oscura o con illustre: 
Sard qual fui, vivr6 com' io son visso, 
Continuando II mio sospir trilustre. 

Petrarca, in turn, was indebted to Horace I. 22: 

Pone me, pigris ubi nulla campis 

Arbor aestiva recreatur aura, 

Quod latus mundi nebulae malusque 

Juppiter urget; 
Pone sub curru nimium propinqui 
Soils in terra domibus negata; 
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, 

Dulce loquentem. 



Criticai, Notes 181 

'1. This verse, interpolated by Surrey, contrasts the flippant and intolerant ignorance 
of the proud with the humility of the sage. Tottel's substitution, "In presence prest of 
people madde or wise", is much less effective. 

7 
In Ms. A. this sonnet, lacking vs. 10 and 12, is assigned to L.-rd Vaux. If by Surrey, 
it is not Surrey at his best: the alliteration is unduly studied and the imagery common, 
and the primitive tendency to two strong beats in each half of a verse is much less pro- 
nounced in any of Surrey's unquestioned poems. Nott cites the double rhymes as evidence 
that Surrey did not write the poem, concluding with the statement: "If this poem be 
Surrey's, it is the only piece of his in which double rhymes occur." Yet the fine poem, 
"Alas so all thinges nowe doe holde their peace", which immediately precedes in Nott's 
edition, has the same rhyme scheme. 

1-3. Cf. V&tSon. in Morte 63.1-2: 

Questo nostro caduco e fragil bene, 

Ch' & vento ed ombra ed ha nome beltate. 

Cf. also Lydgate, Beware of Douhleness 49-52 (Skeat, Supplement to Cliaucer 292): 

What man y-may the wind restrain, 
Or holden a snake by the tail! 
Who may a slipper eeel constrain 
That it will void withouten fail? 

Puttenham has incorporated in The Arte of English Poesie (Arber, p. 136) a poem in 

imitation of this sonnet, prefaced by the statement that it is "our owne, made to 

daunt the insolence of a beautiful woman" : 

Brittle beauty, blossome daily fading; 

Morne, noone, and eue, in age and eke in eld, 

Dangerous, disdainefull, pleasantly perswading; 

Easie to gripe, but cumbrous to weld; 

For slender bottome, hard and heauy lading; 

Gay for a while, but little while durable; 

Suspicious, incertaine, irrevocable, 

O! since thou art by triall not to trust, 

Wisedom it is, and it is also iust. 

To sound the stemme before the tree be feld; 

That is, since death will drlue vs all to dust, 

To leaue thy loue ere that we be compeld. 

8 

1-8. "Nature's precious gift of beauty (fourme and fauour), wherewith you engage 
your friends, bestowing your charms upon them (fcde them), is an earnest that you are 
designed to show forth the supreme skill of Nature : Nature, whose workings are not so 
unknown but the alert spirit may divine that where beauty so perfect has been implanted, 
the fruit of other graces must needs appear." 

9. The second and fourth editions of T. read Garret instead of Ladie. Garret was 
a common version of the name Fitzgerald, and this sonnet, like No. 29, is thus associated 
with the name of Elizabeth Fitzgerald. What was the original reading? Did the two 
readings exist in manuscript form, and if so does one of them represent a correction 
made by the author? Did the editor adopt Ladie for the first edition to universalize the 
poem? Did he then change the reading to Garret in the second edition to please Elizabeth 
Fitzgerald? It should be borne in mind that in July, 1557, the date of the second edition, 
Edward Fiennes de CHnton, the husband of Elizabeth, as Lord High Admiral held the 
centre of the stage, directing the naval operations on the outcome of which the destiny 
of England was thought to depend. In any case, why should the reading have been 
changed four times in the first five editions? It was probably more than mere chance. 

4. This neo-Platonic conceit was very popular in Renaissance amatory verse. Cf. Pet. 

Son. in Vita 108.1-4: 

In qual parte del Ciel, In qual idea 
Era 1' esempio onde Natura tolse 
Quel bel viso leggiadro, in ch' ella volse 
Mostrar quaggiii quanto lassO potea? 



182 The Poems of Surrey 

Cf. also Son. in Vita 190, which suggested to a long line of sonneteers, Italian, French 
and English, that Heaven was jealous of its perfect product and would not long spare 
it to earth: 

Chi voul veder quantunque pu6 Natura 

E'l Ciel tra noi, venga a mirar costei, 

Ch' 6 sola un Sol, non pur ag\i occhi miel 

Ma al mondo cieco, che vertU non cura. 

E venga tosto, perchfe Morte fura 

Prima i migllori, e lascla star i rei: 

Questa, aspettata al regno degli Dei, 

Cosa bella mortal passa e non dura. 

Surrey' was also familiar, of course, with Troilus and Criseyde 1.99-105: 

Criseyde was this lady name a-right; 

As to my dome, in all Troyes citee 

Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight 

So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee, 

That lyk a thing immortal seemed she. 

As doth an hevenish parflt creature, 

That doun were sent in scorning of nature. 



The allusion in v. 12 shows that this sonnet was written sometime between Sept. 1545 
and March 1546, while Surrey was commander of Boulogne and lieutenant-general on the 
continent, with his headquarters in the Lower Town of Boulogne. This is significant, as 
it shows that Surrey's interest in sonnets was not confined to his earlier poetical efforts. 
In October Surrey had requested that his wife might join him in France, a request that 
was finally refused in March, on the ground that "trouble and disquietness unmeet for 
woman's imbecilities" were approaching. Bapst thinks that this sonnet, under the guise 
of a conventional love lament, reflects upon the hardship of this separation. Cf. poems 
21 and 23, and notes. 

10 

This epigram, with its trenchant final couplet giving an unexpected turn to the thought, 
is quite in the spirit of the best Renaissance tradition. 

11 

1-6. Cf. Trail, and Cris. 5. 8-14: 

The golden-tressed Phebus heighe on-lofte 
Thryes hadde alle with his hemes shene 
The snowes molte, and Zephirus as ofte 
Y-brought ayein the tendre leves grene, 
Sin that the sone of Ecuba the quene 
Bigan to love hir first, for whom his sorwe 
Was al, that she departe sholde a-morwe. 

10. Cf. Pet., Son. in Vita 150.1-2: 

D'un bel, chiaro, pollto e vivo ghiaecio 
Move la fiamma che m' incende e strugge. 

18. K. suggests the reading at hand to freeze, to furnish the proper antithesis, and quotes 

Pet. Son. in Vita 169. 12: 

S' arder da lunge ed agghiacciar da presso, 

and vs. 41-42 of the poem "Suche waywarde wais hath love" : 

In standing nere my fyre, I know how that I frese; 
Ffar of, to burn .... 

Similar antitheses found in Son. in Vita 142. 13-14: 

Ma perir mi da. '1 Ciel per questa luce; 
Che da lunge mi struggo, e da press' ardo; 

and Tr. Amore 3.168: 

Arder da lunge ed agghiacciar de presso. 

However, the reading of the text is supported by all of the extant versions. 
30. Cf. Pet. Sest. 1, 2: 

Se non se alquanti c' hanno in odio il sole. 



Criticai, Notes 183 

32. A conventional idea that is often met in amatory verse ; it is the theme of Petrarca's 
Son. in Vita 22. 

34-38. Cf. Son. in Vita 123. 1-4: 

Quando mi vene innanzi il tempo e '1 loco 
Ov' io perdei me stesso, e '1 caro nodo 
Ond' Amor di sua man m' avvinse in modo 
Che r amar mi fe dolce e '1 pianger gioco. 

40-44. These lines are reminiscent of Son. in Vita 137. 7-14 : 

La vela rompe un vento umido eterno 
Di sospir, di speranze e di desio. 
Piog'gia di lagrimar, nebbia di sdegni 
Bagna e rallenta le gia, stanchie sarte, 
Che son d'error con ignoranza attorto. 
Celansi i duo miei dolci usati segni; 
Morta fra 1' onde e la ragion e 1' arte: 
Tal ch' incomincio a disperar del porto. 

This sonnet of Petrarca's was translated entire by Wyatt; see Early Sixteenth Century 
Lyrics, 1. 

44. Nott accepts the reading sucke, found in A. and H., in preference to sinke, and 

cites in defence thereof Son. in Vita 198. 5-6: 

Far potess' io vendetta di colei 
Che guardando e parlando mi distrugge, 
E per pill doglia poi s'asconde e fugge, 
Celando gli occhi a me si dolci e rei 
Cosi gli afflitti e stanchi spirlti miei 
A poco a poco consumando sugge. 

This citation is very far-fetched: in this instance it is the mistress who "sucks" the 
spirits of the lover; in Surrey's poem it would be the lover who would "suck in" his deadly 
harm. It is poetically more effective and more in keeping with the sonnet which suggested 
the figure to Surrey, to picture the lover's spirits as a ship which is sinking, Tal ch' incom- 
incio a disperar del porto. This is the "deadly harm" which the hard-hearted mistress 
takes in sport. 

The suggestion; that the lover, like the sailor, lifts his eyes to the stars, is taken from 

Cane, in Vita 8. 4. 1-6: 

Come a forza di venti 

Stance nocchier di notte alza la testa 

A' duo lumi c' ha sempre il nostro polo; 

Cosi nella tempesta 

Ch' i' sostengo d' amor, gli occhi lucenti 

Sono il mio segno e '1 mio conforto solo. 

12 

The temper of this piece is not unlike that of No. 34, in which Surrey indignantly 
resents an insult paid him by some lady high in the court, presumably Lady Hertford. 
Is it too fanciful to associate this poem with the experience there reflected? Note that 
in V. 7 Surrey alludes to himself as a "man of war", and that it was immediately after 
the conjectured rebuff of Lady Hertford in refusing to dance with him at a ball given 
by him that he accompanied his father, in August, 1542, on his expedition against Scotland. 
The poem has something of the swagger of a young man undertaking his first real mili- 
tary enterprise. 

For the conceit upon which the whole poem turns, compare Chaucer, The Book of 
the Duchesse, vs. 617-686, in which there is an elaborate adaptation of the language of 
chess. This usage obtained much vogue among the lyric poets and dramatists. 

13 

3-5 Cf. Pet.5"oM. in Vita 13. 1-2: 

Piovonmi amare lagrime dal viso, 
Con un vento angoscioso di sospirl. 



184 The Poems of Surrey 



14 



In Ms. Harl 78, f. 27b. is a poem of which certain stanzas are practically identical 
with this. It is there attributed to Wyatt, andNott conjectitres that the two poems were 
translated from a common original in friendly competition. However, no Italian model is 
known to exist, and the poem is apparently a mosaic of Petrarchian lines. Moreover, 
the language of certain stanzas is so nearly identical as to preclude the possibility of in- 
dependent workmanship. The Harleian version is probably a clumsy reworking of Surrey's 
poem, or an attempt to reconstruct it from memory: it lacks the introductory stanzas, 
it misses the irony of the second stanza, and throughout it is faulty in metre. The text 



is as follows: 



Lyke as the wynde with raginge blaste 
Doth cawse eche tree to bowe and bende, 
Even so do I spende my tyme in wast. 
My lyfE consumynge vnto an ende. 

Ffor as the flame by force dothe quenche the tier, 
And runnynge streames consume the rayne, 
Even so do I my self desyer 
To augment my greff and deadly payne. 

Whear as I fynd yat whot is whott, 
And colde is colde by course of kynde, 
So shall I knet an endeles knott; 
Such fructe in love, alas! I fynde. 

When I forsaw those christall streames 
Whose bewtie doth cawse my mortall wounde, 
I lyttyl thought within those beames 
So swete a venim for to have founde. 

I fele and se my owne decay; 

As on that bearethe flame in his brest, 

Forgetfull thought to put away 

The thynge yat breadethe my vnrest. 

Lyke as the flye dothe seke the flame. 
And after warde playethe in the fyer, 
Who fyndethe her woe, and seketlie her game, 
Whose greffe dothe growe of her owne desyr. 

Lyke as the spider dothe drawe her lyne, 

As labor lost so is my sute. 

The gayne is hers, the lose is myne; 

Of euell sowne seade suche is the frute. 

5. Cf. VetSon. in Vita, 33. 1-4: 

Se mai foco per foco non si spense, 

N6 fiume fu giammai secco per pioggia; 
Ma sempre 1' un per 1' altro simil poggia, 
B spesso r un contrario 1' altro accense. 

"As fire increases flame and rain swells the streams, so does her presence height- 
en my distress." 

9. Cf. Ibid. 15. 5-7: 

Ed altri, col desio folle, che spera 
Gioir forse nel foco perchg splende, 
Provan 1' altra virtil, quella che 'ncende. 

Wyatt translated this passage as follows (Foxwell. The Poems of Sir Thomas 
Wiat. p. 11) : 

Other reioyse that se the fyer bright, 
And wene to play in it as they do pretend. 
And fynde the contrary of it that they intend. 

14. Cf . Son. in Vita 89.5 : Dagli occhi vostri uscio '1 colpo mortale. 

15. Cf. Ibid. 101. 8, Can::. 16. 7: Dolce veneno. 

17. Cf. Ibid. 97. 1-4: 

Quando '1 voler che con duo sproni ardenti 
E con un duro fren mi mena e regge, 
Trapassa ad or ad or I'usata legge 
Per far in parte i miei spirti contenti. 



Critical Notf,s 185 



id. 121. 8: Ch' ha si caldi gli spron, si duro il freno. 
21. Ibid. 157. 1-4: 



Voglia mi sprona, Amor mi guida e scorge, 
Placer mi tira, usanza mi ti'asporta, 
Speranza mi lusinga e riconforta, 
B la man destra al cor gift stance porge. 

29. Ibid. 180. 1-4: 

Amor, io fallo, e vegglo 11 mio fallire; 

Ma fo si com'uom ch'arde e '1 foco ha'n seno, 
Che '1 duol pur cresce, e la ragion vien meno 
Ed & gia. quasi vinta dal martlre. 

33. Ibid. 121. 6-7: Quanto al mondo si tesse, opra d'ara^na Vede. 
Wyatt translated this sonnet; cf. The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat, p. 14. 

35. Ibid. 169. 14: Vostro, Donna, il peccato, e mio fia '1 danno. 

36. Ibid. 121. 14: Tal frutto nasce di cotal radice. 

15 

10. Cf. Pet. Son. in Vita 62.13-14: 

Forse non avrai sempre 11 viso asciiitto: 
Ch' i' mi pasco di lagrime; e tu '1 sai. 

24. Cf. Son. in Morte 70. 1-2: 

Del cibo, onde '1 Signor mio sempre ahbonda, 
Lagrime e dogila, il cor lasso nudrisco. 

16 
3-4. "Her thoughts, reflected in her eyes, are communicated to my heart through 
my eyes." 

17-21. "Happy is the man who, not having tasted of love, has escaped that torment 
of an unrelieved passion, which love teaches so insistently." 

29-32, "The truest thing that may be said about love, and its greatest injustice, is that 
its poor victim cannot long endure life." 

17 

30. "Ganders fo," i. e. the fox. 

34-40. "Do not think that one who was so anxious to win your love and so loth to 

forego it, would willingly fall from his felicity or wotild desire a change." 

45-48. Cf. Pet. Sest. in Vita 2. 9-10: 

Quand' avr6 queto il cor, asciutti gli occhi, 
Vedrem ghiacciar il foco, arder la neve. 

18 

13. Cf. A very common conceit among the polite poets, from the time of the Trouba- 
dours. 

19 

4. Cf. Pet. Son. in Vita 153.6: E tempra il dolce amaro, che n' ha offeso. 

7. This probably alludes to the military expedition to Scotland on which Surrey 
accompanied his father in the early autumn of 1542, shortly after his imprisonment in 
the Fleet for quarreling with John a Leigh, and after the humiliating incident described 
in poem 34. Tt may have seemed best to the King, after these stormy episodes, to 
send this hot-blooded youth North to cool down. 

7-18. Compare the antithetical ideas here expressed with the following passages from 
Petrarca : 

Son. in Vita 88.14: E tremo a mezza state, ardendo il verno. 

99.6: Di state un ghiaccio, un fuoco quando verna. 

130.5 : Trem' al piu caldo, ard' al piu f reddo cielo. 



186 The Poems of Surrey 

15-16. Cf. Pet. Son. in Morte 87. 1-2: 

Spirito felice, che si dolcemente 

Volgei quegli occhi piD chiari che '1 sole. 

16. Cf. Son. in Vita 103.9: L' acre percosso da lor dolci rai. 
22. Cf. Ibid. 180.5 : Solea f renare il mio caldo desire. 

20 

It is very doubtful if this poem is to be assigned to Surrey, despite the fact that it 
is so assigned in Ms. Harl. 78. Tottel places it among the poems of "Uncertain Authors." 
The rhyme scheme, a b a c b c, is nowhere else used by Surrey, the comparisons are 
awkardly handled, and the diction has little to commend it. 

1-6. "I had thought that I was like Ulysses, seeking the faithful Penelope, but I 
find that I am like Troilus, deceived by Cressida." 

18. The "repentance" is not that of the lover, but the pity which the lady finally 
takes upon him. 

21 

This poem may have been written, as no. 33 clearly was, for the Countess of Surrej', 

to voice her impatience at the separation from her husband, during his absence on 

miHtary duty in France. Cf. notes to nos. 9 and 33. It is the one poem of Surrey's in 

the Duke of Devonshire Ms. and is in the hand-writing of Mary Shelton, the sweetheart 

of Sir Thomas Clere, Surrey's companion, who accompanied him. to France. (Cf. notes 

to No. 47.) Perhaps the poem was written for Mary Shelton herself, in recognition of 

her love foi Clere, and was inserted in the Ms. after being sent her from France. It is 

adapted from Serafino del Aquilo Bpist. 5 : 

Quella ingannata, afflitta et miseranda 
Donna, non donna piu, ma horrendo mostrio. 

The epistle, in turn, is adapted from Phj'Uis' complaint of Demophoon in Ovid's 
Heroides 2. 

12-13. These verses are suggested by Pet. Stn. in Viti 137. 7-S: 

La vela rompe un vento umido eterno 
Di sospir. di .speranze e di desio. 

24-28. Cf npist. 37-41: 

Ah quanta uolte quando il ciel s' imbruna 
A mezza notte usclo del freddo letto 
A sentir 1' hore, a remirar la luna, 
Fatta son marinar per questo effetto. 

33. Cf. Ibid. 79-80: 

E s' afondato 6 alcun dal tempo rio 

Che '1 sappia dico: ahime: questo g sommerso 

Cf. also Troil. and Cris. 5.228: O herte mine! Crisej'de, my swete foe! 

22 
This poem is largely indebted to Pet. Trionfo D' Amove 3. 151-190, and 4. 139- 
153. The first of these passages reads as follows : 

Or so come da se 11 cor si dlsgiunge, 

E come sa far pace, guerra e tregua, 

E coprir suo dolor quand' altri '1 punge. 
E so come in un punto si dilegua 

E poi si sparge per le guance il sangue, 15S 

Se paura o vergogna avvien che '1 segua. 
So come sta tra' fiori ascoso 1' angue; 

Come sempre fra due si vegghia e dtorme; ' 

Come senza languir si more e langue. 
So della mia nemica cercar 1' orme, 160 

E temer di trovarla; e so in qual guisa 

L' amante nell' amato si trasforme. 
So fra lunghi sospiri e brevi risa 

Stato, voglla, color cangiare spesso; 

Viver, stando dal cor 1' alma divisa. 166 



150 



Critical Notes 187 

So mille volte il di ingannar me stesso; 

So, seguendo '1 mlo foco ovunqu' e' fugge, 

Arder da lunge ed agghiacciar da presso. 
So com' Amor sopra la mente rugge, 

E com' ogni ragione indi discaccia; I'O 

E so in quante maniere 11 cor si strugge. 
So di che poco canape s' allaccia 

Un' anima gentil, quand' ella & sola, 

E non g chi per lei difesa faccia. 
So com' Amor saetta e come vola; l<" 

E so com' or minaccia ed or percote; 

Come ruba per forza e come invola; 
E come sono instabili sue rote; 

Le speranze dubbiose e '1 dolor certo; 

Sue promesse di fe' come son vote; 18« 

Come neir ossa il suo foco coperto 

E nelle vene rive occulta piaga, 

Onde morte 6 palese e 'ncendio aperto. 
In somma so com' & incostante e vaga, 

Timida, ardita vita degli amanti; loo 

Ch' un poco dolce molto amaro appaga: 
E so i costumi e i lor sospiri e canti 

E '1 parlar rotto e '1 subito silenzio 

E '1 brevissimo riso e i lunghi pianti, 
E qual 6 '1 mel temprato con 1' assenzio. 190 

The other passage reads : 

Error!, sogni ed immagini smorte 

Erra d' intorno al carro trionfale; i'" 

E false opinion! in su le porte; 
E lubrico sperar su per la scale; 

E dannoso guadagno, ed util danno; 

E gradi ove piQ scende chi piCl sale; 
Stanco ripose e riposato affanno; l*" 

Chiaro disnor, e gloria oscura e nigra; 

Perflda lealtate, e fido inganno; 
Sollicito furor, e ragion pigra; 

Career ove si vien per strade aperte, 

Onde per strette a gran pena si migra; 
Ratte scese all' intrar, all' uscir erte. 

Dentro, confusion turbida, e mischia 

Di doglie certe e d' allegrezze incerte. 

3. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 176, 180; 4. 147. 

5. Cf. Pet. Canz. 15. 2. 1-2: 

S' i' '1 dissi. Amor 1' aurate sue quadrella 
Spenda in me tutte, e 1' impiombate in lei. 

9. Cf. Pet. Son. in Vita 175. 7-8: 

Che non pur ponte o guado o remi o vela, 
Ma scampar non potiemmi ale n6 piume. 

16. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 152. 

18. Cf. Pet. Son. sopra vari Arg. 7. 1-2: 

S' Amore o Morte non da. qualche stropplo 
Alia tela novella ch' ora ordisco. 

19-22. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 153-155, and 164. 

25-26. Cf. Ihid. 187-188. 

28-29. Cf. Ihid. 158-159, and 4. 145. 

33-35. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 160-162. 

36. Cf. Son. in Vita 11. 9-14: 

39. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 166. 

40. Cf. Chaucer, Squire's Tale 491-492: 

And for to maken other be war by me. 
As by the whelp chasted is the leoun. 

41. Cf. Tr. Am. 3. 168. 
43-44. Cf. Ihid. 169-171. ' ' 
45. Cf. Ibid. 186. 
47. Cf. Ihid. \77. 

49. Cf. Ihid. 178. 

50. Cf. Ihid. 179, 182-183; 4. 153. 



188 The Poems of Surrey 

23 

The influence of Chaucer is of course apparent throughout this fresh and spirited 
Httle poem. 

21-23. "In their songs methought the birdes thanked nature much that she had per- 
mitted them — such was their good fortune — to love all that year, to choose them mates 
just as their fancy dictated." 

41-42. "All that was but the mental impression of one who would be well quit of Cupid." 

24 
This poem is a fusion of one type of the early French pastourelle, in which a 
shepherd complains to another of his hard-hearted mistress, and of one type of the early 
French chanson a personnages, in which the poet chances upon a man who is lamenting 
an unrequited love. The opening verses, which give the setting", are reminiscent of the 
chanson, although winter has been substituted for the conventional May morning. The 
sophisticated references to classical myths appear odd enough in this setting of folk poetry. 
(Cf. Early Sixteenth Century Lyrics xxxvi ff., and Transition English Song Collections, 
Cambridge History of Eng. Lit. 2. 389, 392-3.) 

44. A very common conceit with the sonneteers. Cf. Chancer, The Book of the 
Duchesse, 908-911 : 

For certes, Nature has swich lest 
To make that fair, that treyly she 
Was hir cheef patron of beautee. 
And cheef ensample of al hlr werke. 

77-80. Such references show the very great vogue that Troilus and Criseyde enjoyed. 

48. Cf . Pet. Son. in Vita 37. 6 : 

E corcherassl '1 Sol Ik obtre, ond' esce 
D' un medesimo fonte Eufrate e Tigre; 
Prima ch' i' trovi in cia, pace, n& tregua. 

25 
9-10. "I am suffering so much distress on your account that I cannot rest until you 
know the disconcerting truth." 

11-12. "This love of yours, which abuses you by deceiving you, has so completely 
mastered you that it sacrifices everything to j'our passion, and fitfully seizes you." The 
construction is rather loose. 

26 
27. "The row" means the whole company of lovers. 

27 

This poem is a playful rejoinder to the one which precedes it. There is a good deal 
of question as to whether the poem should be assigned to Surrey. In the ms. from which 
it is taken. A., it is given as the first of a group of Surrey's poems, but by Tottel it is 
assigned to "an vncertain aucthor". However, in the second edition it is transposed from 
its original position at page 198, and is placed immediately after the poem, "Wrapt in 
my carelesse cloke", with the title, "An answer in the behalfe of a woman". It is to 
be noted that only the first twenty verses are given in Tottel. Surrey may have written 
the poem as a mere literary pleasantry, or it may have been written by another in good- 
natured rivalry. If written by another, he has succeeded in hitting off the style of 
Surrey to a nicety. 

The theme of Susanna and the Elders was a favorite one with the Renaissance 
artists, and was treated ad nauseam. 



Criticai. Notes 189 

28 

5-8. Petrarca has given beautiful expression to this thought in two of his lyrics. 
Cf. Sest. in Vita 1. 1-6: 

A qualunque animale alberga in terra, 
Se non se alquanti c' hanno in odio il sole. 
Tempo da travagliare 6 quanto e '1 giorno; 
Ma poi ch' il ciel accende le sue stelle, 
Qual torna a casa, e qual s' annlda in selva 
Per aver posa almeno infin all' alba. 

See also the fourth Canzone in which Petrarch contrasts, in pictures of charming 
color, the rest which awaits the pilgrim, the laborer, the shepherd and the shipman, with 
his own feverish unrest. 

60. A very common conceit. Thus Troilus (Troilus and Criscyde 4. 318-322.) and 
Arcite (The Knightes Tale 2765-2770). 

29 

The subject of this sonnet is Elizabeth Fitzgerald, the little daughter of Gerald 
Fitzgerald, ninth Earl of Kildare. Born in Ireland in about 1528, she was brought to 
England in 1533 when her father was involved in charges of rebellion. In 1537 she entered 
the household of the Princess Mary (Ms. Vesp. C. xiv,, 1. 274.) and in 1540 was trans- 
ferred to the service of Queen Catherine Howard. In 1543 she married Sir Anthony 
Browne, a widower of sixty. I take it that Surrey first met her at Hunsdon in March 
1537, and met her again at Hampton in July, prior to the ninth (Madden, Privy Purse 
Expenses of the Princess Mary [London, 1831] 21, 23 and 33 show that Mary was at 
Hunsdon and at Hampton on these dates.) The poem was probably written in July, 1537, 
while Surrey was confined at Windsor for having struck a courtier. Though the offense 
was committed in June, Surrey was probably not confined before July 12, as on that date 
he was at Kennington, his father's home, suffering from some illness (Let. and Pap. 
12. 2. 248). 

A stubborn literary tradition has it that this maiden was the object of Surrey's versC; 
Nash seems to be responsible for this tradition, for in his romance entitled The Unfor- 
tunate Traveller, or the Life of Jack Wilton (15Q4), Surrey is reputed to have consulted 
Cornelius Agrippa in Venice as to the welfare of Elizabeth and to have seen her image 
in a magic mirror, and later, while in Florence, to have offered to defend his lady's 
beauty against all comers. Drayton perpetuated the ficton in his England's Heroical 
Epistles, Henry Howard Earle of Surrey to Geraldine, 1598, of which the Argument 
is as follows : "Henry Howard, that true noble Earle of Surrey, and excellent poet, falling 
in love with Geraldine ; descended of the noble family of the Fitzgeralds of Ireland, a 
faire and modest Lady; & one of the honorable maydes to Queen Katherine Dowager; 
eternizeth her prayses in many excellent Poems, of rare and sundry inuentions : and after 
some fewe yeares, being determined to see that famous Italy, the source and Hlicon of al 
excellent Arts ; first visiteth that renowned Florence, from whence the Geralds challeng 
their descent, from the ancient family of the Geraldi : there in honor of his mistress he 
aduaunceth her picture: and challengeth to maintaine her beauty by deeds of Armes 
against all that durst appeare in the lists, where after the proofe of his braue and incom- 
parable valour, whoce arme crowned her beauty with eternall memory, he writeth this 
epistle to his deerest Mistres." 

This tradition gained wide vogue in the seventeenth century and Warton gave it 
full credence in his History of English Poetry (4.23). Nott accepted it as its face value 
and indeed became so obessed with the idea that he construed all of the amatory poems 
in the light of it, introducing the name Geraldine into manufactured titles for the poems, 
and filling his notes, in other respects often so admirable, with sentimental trash. 

The truth probably is that Surrey whiled away an idle hour of confinement by com- 
posing a sonnet in compliment to a little girl of nine whose pretty face chanced to have 



190 The Poems of Surrey 

caught his fancy. If he did for the time being accept her as the "Laura" of his verse, 
it must have been in a spirit of playfulness. Most of his amatory verse is undertaken 
largely as a literary exercise, as any student of Renaissance polite verse must appreciate. 

I. The Fitzgeralds were supposed to be descended from a Florentine family, the 
Geraldi. 

6. The mother of Elizabeth was Lady Elizabeth Grey, fourth daughter of Thomas, 
Marquis of Dorset, granddaughter of Elizabeth Woodville, queen of Edward IV, and 
first cousin of Henry VIII (D. N. B.). 

30 
This and the following poem were written in the summer of 1537, while Surrey was 
confined at Windsor for having struck a courtier. 

7. loily woes; cf . the Italian dolci quai. The hateless shorte debate : the sweet 
quarrels of lovers. So Troilus (Troil. and Cris. 2.1099) : I have a loly wo, a lusty sorwe. 

II. Cf. Pet. Son. in Morte 20. 1-2: I'ho pien di sospir quest' aer tutto, 

31 

This poem, like the preceding, was written at Windsor in the summer of 1537, during 
Surrey's confinement. In surroundings that were all eloquent with the memory of the 
happy boyhood years spent at Windsor with Richmond, the King's son, and that con- 
trasted the past and the present so sharply, the poet fondly recalls the affectionate com- 
radeship and the enthusiasms of the former days. It must be allowed, to be sure, that 
the narrative is somewhat idealized, for some of the activities described are those of 
young men rather than of lads in their earliest teens. 

Cf. Troil and Cris. 3. 1366: 

Or elles when that folk be sike 
Easy sighes such as ben to like. 

53-54. Koeppel notes the similarity of this sentiment to the pathetic words of 
Francesca {Inferno^ 5. 121-123) : 

Nessun maggior dolore, 
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice 
Nella miseria. 

32 

In April, 1543, Surrey, in company with certain boon companions, one of whom was 
Thomas Wyatt, the son of the poet {Acts of the Privy Council 1. 104), was committed 
to thq Fleet on the twofold charge of eating meat in Lent, and of going about the streets 
at night breaking windows with a stone-bow. In the Acts of the Privy Council the 
oflFence is entered as follows : "Att Saint-James the first day off aprill . . . Th'erle of 
Surrey being sent for t'appere before the Cownsell was charged as well off eating off 
flesshe, as off a lewde and unsemely manner of walking in the night abowght the stretes and 
breaking with stonebowes off certeyne wyndowes. And towching the eating off flesshe, 
he alleged a licence, albeitt he hadde nott secretly used the same as apparteyned. 
And towching the stonebowes, he cowlde nott denye butt he hadde verye evyll done 
therein, submitting himselff therefore to stich ponissement as sholde to them be thowght 
good. Whereapon he was committed to the Fleet." 

It may have been during his confinement that this irrepressible young nobleman 
composed this waggish satire, in which he pretends that the city had become so lost in 
trespasses and sin that nothing short of such drastic means could arouse it to a sense of 
its spiritual condition. 

The metre is the terza rima, save for vs. 29-40, which rhyme abababcdcdcd. As 
in these lines the poet is inveighing against the seven deadly sins, he may intend a play- 
ful intimation that the terza riwa should not be polluted with anything so evil. It may 
be, of course, that the change of metre is merely to secure rapidity. 



Critical Notes 191 

2. "Such was my indignation at the dissolute H£e within the city walls that fear of 
retribution could not keep me from forcibly rebuking it. Mere words, as the preachers well 
know, are of small avail, and so I resorted to this novel method of voicing my protest. 
My punishment of the city, under cover of the night, accords with your secret sins, and 
should teach you that justice seeks out every fault, and that no one is secure from it." 

21. Cf. Isaiah 47. 11. 

45-55. Cf. Revelation 18 and Jeremiah 51, for general similarities. 

56-58. Cf. Jeremiah 51. 49. 

59. Nott calls attention to Petrarca's invective against the vices of the Papal Court 
at Avignon, Son. sopra Varj. Arg. 14: 

Fiamma dal ciel su le tue trecce piova. 

60-64. Adapted from Ezekiel 5. 12-17, 6. 11-14, and Jeremiah 50.15. Nott thinks 

that Surrey may have in mind a second sonnet of Petrarca's in which he condemns Avignon 

as the modern Babylon, Son. sopra Varj. Agr. 15. 9-10: 

Gl' idoli suoi saranno in terra sparsi, 
B le torri superbe, al Ciel nemiche. 

65-68. Cf. Jeremiah 51-48. 

33 

This poem was clearly written for the Countess of Surrey while Surrey was sepa- 
rated from her during his winter of military service in France. Evidently Surrey and 
his wife found this separation very trying; cf. notes to poems 9 and 21. The poem 
leaves no doubt of the affection which was mutually felt. Note the felicitious domestic 
picture in vs. 21-28. 

22. Thomas Howard, the eldest son of the poet, then aged nine. 

29. Cf. Trail and Cris. 4. 234-237: 

Up-on his beddes syde a-down him sette, 
Ful lyk a deep image pale and wan; 
And in his brest the heped wo bigan 
Out-breste. 

34 

In Tottel this piece bears the title, "A song written by the earle of Surrey to a ladie 

that refused to daunce with him." Bapst conjectures that this lady was Lady Hertford, the 

wife of Edward Seymour. He finds support for this theory in the deep-seated enmity of the 

two houses, in the fact that the escutcheon of the Stanhopes — Lady Hertford's family — 

was supported by two wolves, and in Drayton's association of the names of Surrey and 

Lady Hertford in his epistle, Surrey to Geraldine, 145-148: 

Nor beauteous Stanhope, whom all tongues report 
To be the glory of the English Court, 
Shall by our nation be so much admir'd, 
If euer Surrey truly were inspir'd. 

The closing lines suggest to Bapst that Surrey gave the function at which the insult was 
received, and he fixes the date as August, 1542, by interpreting verse 41 as a refer- 
ence to those members of Surrey's family who were in confinement during the proceedings 
against Catherine Howard. 

3. The lion was an heraldic emblem of the Howards. 

11. The pride and spirit of Lady Hertford were exemplified by her quarrels with 
Catherine Parr over the question of precedence 

30. Thomas Howard, grandfather of the poet, overthrew James IV of Scotland 
in the famous battle of Flodden Field. 

35-40. This reference is to Surrey's uncle, Thomas Howard, the second son of 
Thomas, second Duke of Norfolk. In June, 1536, he was committed to the Tower because 
he had affianced himself to Lady Margaret Douglas, the King's niece, without the royal 
knowledge or assent. Inquiry showed that Surrey's sister, the Duchess of Richmond, had 
encouraged this secret alliance and that the lovers had frequently met in her presence 



192 Tnr; Poems of Surrey 

to avoid suspicion (Let and Pap. 11. no. 48 [Jnb' 8, 1536]). Lord Thomas remained in 
ihe Tower until his death two years later. That he and Lady Margaret were ardently at- 
tached to one another and continued so even after their confinement, despite the diplo- 
matic protestation of Lady Margaret to Cromwell "Not to thynk that eny fancy doth 
remayn in me towching hyni (Let. and Pap. 11. no. 294)", finds confirmation in the poems 
written by their own hands in the Duke of Devonshire MS. (See Bibliography) , which 
Lady Margaret had evidently borrowed from the Duchess of Richmond and then con- 
veyed surreptitiously to Sir Thomas in the Tower. Miss Ida K. Foxwell (A Study of 
Sir Thomas IVyatt's Poems, London, 1911, p. 132) in her keen history of the vicissitudes of 
this manuscript, speaks of these poems as follows : "A series of poems by Sir Thomas 
Howard occurs in another part of the book. Stanzas of intense hopefulness and assurance 
that all will be well are followed by verses expressing firmness and unaltered resolve to 
remain true to Margaret. He speaks of means taken to undermine his resolution by 
cajolery or cruelty, but the poems alwaj'S end with loving words to 'my none swete wyf. 
At length privation told upon a frame that was never robust, and his last verses are a 

cry for death that 'his soul may go forth to his ladye' Broken-hearted and desperate 

verses in the Devonshire Manuscript bear witness to Margaret's grief." 

35 

This poem serves as a prologue to the translation of Psalm 88, and number 
36, in turn, as a prologue to Psalm 73, psalms which presumably Surrey translated while 
awaiting execution. Bapst makes the following observation upon these poems : "Especi- 
ally worthy of remark among the poems written at this supreme hour are the two 
prologues. That of Psalm 73 is addressed to George Blage, with whom, one must 
remember, the Count had had the altercation which led to his downfall ; that of Psalm 
88, to Sir Anthony Denny, an intimate of Henry VIII, who must have had a 
share in Surrey's arrest. But, at the point of death, the poet wished to show his enemies 
that he had forgotten all the quarrels of this naughty world, and was concerned onlj' 
with his passage to another life." (page 361.) Sir Anthony Denny was one of the 
secretaries of Henry VIII, a man who, according to Ascham, was wholly occupied with 
religion, learning, and affairs of state. When Henry VIII was on his deathbed, so shortly 
after the execution of Surrey, Denny bravely besought him to repent of his sins and to 
ask God's mercy. Denny was a zealous promoter of the Reformation, and this was 
doubtless one ground of dislike between him and Surrey. 

8. This does not mean the pardon of the King, as Nott supposed, but God's pardon. 
The accompanying psalm plainly shows that Surrey was awaiting death at the time of 
writing. 

36 

George Blage, an old companion in arms of Surrey's, was, like Denny, an enthusiastic 
Reformist. At the trial, Edward Rogers recalled a heated dispute between Surrey 
and Blage over the question of the anticipated regency during the minority of Edward VI. 
Surrey haughtily contended that his father, as the first duke of England, should hold 
this office. Blage, in turn, warmly retorted that he hoped such a calamity would never 
occur. The dispute ended in invectiv^es and threats. Let. and Pap. 21.2 no. 555,4. 

37 

Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, the second son of the poet, states in the 
Dedicatory Epistle to his Dutiful Defence of the Royal Regimen of Women that this 
poem was the last which his father wrote. Nott is inclined to refer the poem to an 
earlier confinement, because "Surrey plainly intimates that he either had obtained, or 
was on the point of obtaining, the King's pardon." However, though only seven at the 
time of his father's execution, Northampton ought to have known the history of the 
poem. Moreover, the similarity of the opening verse to that of the preceding poem is 



Critical Notes 193 

strong presumptive evidence of the date. If this is, indeed, the last poem, the storms 
and clouds refer to the poet's spiritual struggles ; the "paine f oreknowne", to the antici- 
pated death for which he is now fortified by patience; the "swete reuenge," to his 
spiritual triumph over his enemies; and the "wretch"', to Southwell, whom Surrey had 
offered to fight when accused by him of treason. Yet one is hard put to it to construe 
verses 9-11 to this interpretation. May not the poem have been written in the early days 
of December, before the trial, when Surrey may have had some occasion for thinking 
that his skies were clearing? The harsh spirit of the closing lines is certainly incom- 
patible with the resignation of one who has forgiven his enemies and is about to die. 
It does not comport with the two Prologues and Psalms 88 and 72. 

12. The "glass" is the mental reflection; cf. Troil and Cris. 1. 365-366: 

Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde, 
In which he saugh al hooUy hir figure. 

38 

1. Alexander the Great. Plutarch twice relates the incident: Lives, p. 467 (ed. 1831), 
and Morals, The Fortune or Virtue of Alexander, 4. Flugel {Neuenglische Lesebiich 302) 
cites the opening lines of the Dedication to Henry VIII of Berthelette's edition of 
Gower's Confessio Amantis (1532) : "Plutarcke wryteth whan Alexander had discomfyte 
Darius, the Kynge of Perse, among other iewels of the sayde Kynges there was founde a 
curyous lyttell cheste of great value, which the noble Kynge Alexander beholdynge, sayde: 
'This same shall serue for Homere.' Which is noted for the great loue and fauour that 
Alexander had vnto lernynge." 

6. Wyatt paraphrased Psalm 7)7 and the seven Penitential Psalms. See The 
Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat 125-163. 
11-12. Cf. 2 Samuel 11-12. 
13-14. These verses are probably directed against Henry VIII. See Introduction, p. 16. 

39 
This poem is addressed presumably to Thomas Radcliffe, third Earl of Sussex 
(b. 1536 [?]), who took part with Surrey in the military operations against France in 
1544. Radcliffe was related to Surrey as his father, Henry Radcliffe, second Earl of 
Sussex (b. 1506 [?]), married Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of Thomas, second 
Duke of Norfolk — the poet's grandfather — , by his second wife. The poem may possibly 
be addressed to Henry Radcliffe, but Surrey would hardly use this paternal tone to a 
man eleven years his senior, or reflect upon the "rechlesse youth" of a man of thirty- 
eight. 

2. Nott quotes Tibullus (37) : 

Vos ego nunc moneo. Felix, quicunque dolore 
Alterius disces posse carere tuo. 

6. Cf. Foxwell, The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat, Epigram 31, p. 33: 

Siglies ar my foode: drynke are my teares: 
Clynkinge of fetters suche musycke wolde crave: 
Stynke and close ayer away my lyf wears: 
Innocencie is all the hope I have. 
Rayne, wynde or wether I judge by myne eares. 
Mallice assaulted that rightiousnes sliould have, 
Sure I am, Brian, this wounde shall heale agayne, 
But yet, alas, the scarre shall styll remayne. 

Wyatt was twice committed to the Tower: once in 1.536, in conjunction with the im- 
prisonment of Anne Boleyn, and again in 1538, when accused by Edmund Bonner of 
treasonable correspondence with Cardinal Pole. 

40 

7. The King referred to is Sardanapalus. See Introduction, p. 16. 

7 



194 The Poems of Surrey 

41 

This poem is a translation of Martial's famous epigram on the golden mean, Ad 
Seipsum : 

Vitam quae faciant beatlorem, 
lucundissime Martialis, haec sunt; 
Res non parta labore, sed relicta; 
Non ingratus ager, focus perennls; 
Lis nunquam, toga rara, mens quieta; 
Vires ingenuae, salubre corpus; 
Prudens simplicitas, pares amici; 
Convictus facilis, sine arte mensa; 
Nox non ebria, sed soluta curis; 
Non tristis torus, et tamen pudicus; 
Somnus, qui faciat breves tenebras; 
Quod sis, esse velis niiiilque malis; 
Summum nee metuas diem nee optes. 

Cf. the following sonnet by Plantin, the proprietor of the famous press, and now 

reprinted from the old press as a souvenir: 

Avoir une maison commode, propre & belle, 

Un jardin tapissg d'espaliers odorans, 

Des fruits, d'excellent vin, peu de train, peu d'enfans, 

Posseder seul sans bruit une femme fldgle. 

N'avoir dettes, amour, ni procSs, ni querelle, 
Ni de partage a. faire avecque ses parens, 
Se contenter de peu, n'esperer rien des Grands, 
R6gler tous ses desseins sur un juste module. 

Vivre avecque franchise et sans ambition, 
S'adonner sans scrupule h. la devotion, 
Domter ses passions, les rendre ob§issantes. 

Conserver I'esprit libre, & le jugement fort. 

Dire son Chapelet en cultivant ses entes, 

C'est attendre chez soi bien doucement la mort. 

The doctrine of the golden mean evidently made a strong appeal to a generation that 
was so subject to the uncertainties of fortune. See poem 42, and poem 52, vs. 29-30, 
where Surrey voices the doctrine again, and Tottel, p. 255. 

42 

Is this poem addressed to the poet's brother or son, or is it addressed to Thomas Wyatt 
the younger, Surrey's comrade in many a mad frolic? If to the latter, there may be an 
element of pleasantry in the offering of this sage advice. 

The poem is adapted from Horace, Book 2, Ode 10: 

Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum 
Semper urgendo neque, dum procellas 
Cautus horrescis, nimium premendo 

Litus iniquum. 
Auream quisquis mediocritatem 
Diligit tutus caret obsoleti 
Sordibus tecti, caret invidenda 

Sobrius aula. 
Saepius ventis agitatur Ingens 
Pinus et celsae graviore casu 
Decidunt turres feriuntque summos 

Fulgura montes. 
Sperat infestes, metuit secundis 
Alteram sortem bene praeparatum 
Pectus. Informes hiemes reducit 

Jupiter, idem 
Summovet. Non si male nunc et olim 
Sic erit: quondam cithara tacentem 
Suscitat musam, neque semper arcum 

Tendit Apollo. 
Rebus angustis animosus atque 
Fortis appare; sapienter idem 
Contrahes vento nimium secundo 

Turgida vela. 

43 

Surrey was of course familiar with the description of the successive ages in Horace, 
Ars Poetica, I56ff. Cf. also the beautiful poem by Sir Thomas More (Padelford, Early 
Sixteenth Century Lyrics, p. 100). 



I 



Critical Notes 195 

19-22. Cf. Cant. Tales, The Reeve's Prologue 13-17: 

But ik am old, me list not pley for age; 
Gras-tyme is doon, my fodder is now forage, 
This whyte top wryteth myne olde yeres, 
Myn herte is al-so mowled as myne heres. 

44 
This and the two following elegiac poems are in memory of Sir Thomas Wyatt. Miss 
Foxwell, in her admirable monograph {A Study of Sir Thomas Wyatt's Poems, p. 125flf,), 
presents strong evidence that in 1526, when a lad of nine, Surrey came into possession of 
the manuscript in which Wyatt wrote the first version of his poems, and that later he 
presented the volume to his sister, the Duchess of Richmond, presumably on the occasion 
of her marriage to Henry Richmond, the king's son. Surrey probably conceived thus 
early an admiration for the literary work of the senior poet. Yet it is not likely that a 
friendship existed between the two poets prior to 1541. Wyatt was fourteen years older 
than Surrey; he was a protege of Cromwell, towards whom Surrey shared his father's 
enmity; and he favored the protestant movement in the Church. Moreover, with the 
exception of a few months in 1539, Wj'att was engaged in diplomatic service abroad from 
June 1537 to May 1540. But the malicious attack of Bonner upon Wyatt after the fall 
of Cromwell evidently aroused the ire of Surrey, for he and his sister induced the new 
queen, Catherine Howard, to use her influence with the king in securing the release of the 
poet from the Tower. For the remaining two years of Wyatt's life there may well have 
existed a hearty friendship between the two poets. John Leland in his Naeniae in Mortem^ 
Thomas Viati, Equitis Incomparabilis, 1542, dedicated to Surrej-, gives the following con- 
temporary evidence of the relation of the two poets : 

Accipe, Regnorum comes illustrissime, carmen 
Quo mea Musa tuum laudavit moesta Viatum 
Non exspectato sublatum funere terris. 
Nominis ille tui, duin vixit, iragnus amator. 
Nom modo tu vivum coluisti candidus ilium, 
Verum etiam vita defunctum carmine tali 
Collaudasti, quale suum Chaucerus, avitae 
Dulce decus linguae, vel juste agnosceret esse. 

The poem may be paraphrased as follows: "If in a rude and unscientific age, Jove 
won undying gratitude in Crete, and others won hke gratitude elsewhere, for teaching 
the arts of humanity; if, even in times of greatest ingratitude, there have always been 
some to extol virtue— a goodly means to deter men from crime and to inflame them with 
a passion for virtue — ; shall Wyatt's friends be blamed if, in modern days, they deplore — 
the only office that the living can perform for the dead — the loss of one who used his 
rare mind to teach Christ to his fellows? When living.his face vexed you, and now his 
very ashes consume you with envy." 

13-14. Surrey has especially in mind Edmund Bonner and Simon Heynes, who, in 
1538, accused Wyatt of complicity with Cardinal Pole, of loose living, and of speaking 
contemptuously of the king ; charges which were pressed with such warmth after the 
death of his friend Cromwell in 1540 that Wyatt was confined for a time to the Tower. 

45 

See introductory note to the preceding poem. 

2-3. See note to verses 13-14 of the preceding poem. 

4. Cf. Pet. Son in Vita 29.1-4: 

Quel ch' in Tessaglia ebbe le man si pronte 
A farla del civil sangue vermiglia, 
Pianse morto il marito di sua flglia, 
Raffigurato alle fattezze conte. 

Cf. also Ibid 70. 1-4: 

Cesare, poi che '1 traditor d' Egitto 

Li fece il don dell' onorata testa, 

Celando 1' allegrezza manifesta, 

Pianse per gli occhi fuor, siccome ^ scritto. 

12. Cf. Trois. and Cris. 5. 1788: 

And kiss the steps whereas thou seest pace 
Of Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace. 



196 The Poems of Surrey 

46 

See introductory note to no. 44. 

47 

The subject of this poem is Thomas Clere (died April 14, 1545), Surrey's companion 
and squire, who, in saving the life of Surrey at the siege of Montreuil (September 19, 
1544), received a wound from which he never recovered. Clere was buried at Lambeth, 
in the chapel assigned to the Howards, and the verses were inscribed on the tablet 
suspended near the tomb. 

1. Clere was born at Ormesby, his father's seat in Norfolk. 

2. He was descended from the DeClermont house. Nott emends to read: "Clere, of 
the Count of Cleremont, thou'rt hight." But the emendation misses the meaning, for the 
whole point of the epitaph is to identify Clere with the Howard family. In effect, the 
thought is as follows : "Though of another house, the Howards claim you : you were born 
in Norfolk, your remains rest in our chapel, you had the blood of the Ormondes, a house 
united to ours by marriage (Clere's uncle, Thomas Boleyn, a grandson of the seventh 
Earl of Ormonde, having married Elizabeth Howard), your lady was Mary Shelton, 
daughter of another allied house (Mary being the cousin of Anne Boleyn), and you chose 
me as your lord, saving my life at the expense of your own." The epitaph demonstrates 
the propriety of burying Clere in the Howard chapel. 

3. His maternal grandmother was Margaret, daughter of Thomas, Earl of Ormonde. 

4. Anne Boleyn; also descended from the Earl of Ormonde. 

5. Clere was in love with Mary Shelton, a lady of the court. See notes to 21. 

7. Kelsal ; a town that had been burned in the expedition against Scotland in the 
autumn of 1542. 

8. Surrey and Clere served under Sir John Wallop at the siege of Landrecy in 
October, 1543. Boulogne was taken by Henry in person, in September, 1544, a few days 
after the fall of Montreuil. 

13. That these words are not mere rhetoric is evidenced by Surrey's generosity to his 
young attendant. Nott (LXXXVHI) cites the Patent Rolls to the effect that Surrey 
"made over to him all his rights in the Manor of Wyndham, which he had received by 
grant from the king, the 26th of November, 1545. On the 12th of Alay previous, he sold 
to him the Manor of Bradcarehall and the Rectorv of Shropham in Norfolk." 



The translations from Ecclesiastes and the Psalms are verj' free, and are given a 
modern atmosphere and a personal bent. They are full of the color of Tudor England, 
and they reflect the disillusionment of fortune that was so poignantly felt by sensitive 
and high-spirited men who were the victims of royal caprice. The introductory verses 
to Psalms 88 and IZ (See poems 35 and 36) furnish unequivocal, evidence, quite 
aside from internal evidence, that the Psalms were translated during Surrey's final 
imprisonment, and the like temper of the translations from Ecclesiastes is strong pre- 
sumptive evidence that they were produced at the same time. They bespeak the same 
tormenting sense of the treachery of friends, the malice of enemies, and the mutability of 
things temporal. 

3-4. These verses illustrate the freedom which Surrey takes with the original. The 
Latin merely says (v. 2) : Vanitas vanitatum, dixit Ecclesiastes; vanitas vanitatutn, et omnia 
vanitas. 

7-10. Cf. the Vulgate (v.4) : Generatio praeterit, et generatio advenit; terra autem in 
aeternum stat. 

13-16. This passage is much more spirited and picturesque than the original (vSj 6-7) : 
Gyrat per meridiem, et flectitur ad aquilonem ; lustrous universa in circuitu pergit spiritus, 
et in circulos suos reveritur. Omnia flumina intrant in mare, et mare non redundat; ad 
locum, unde exeunt flumina, revertuntur, ut iterum fluant. 



Criticai. Notes 197 

29. "Kyndled" is here an adjective. 

29-30. Cf. the Vulgate (vs. 13) : Hauc occupationem pessimam dedit Deus filiis 
hoviinum, ut occuparentur in ea. 

43-44. "Such men as endeavor to institute new things can learn the futility thereof 
from those who receive these efforts with scorn." The Vulgate reads (vs. 17) : Et 
agnovi, quod in his quoque esset labor, et afflictio spiritus, eo quod in multa sapientia 
multa sit indignatio, et qui addit scientiam, addit et laborem. Surrey arrives at his mean- 
ing through interpreting indignatio as the vexation or displeasure which ones search for 
wisdom causes others, not as the vexation felt by the searcher himself. The King James 
version properly accepts the latter interpretation : "For in much wisdom is much grief." 

49 

llff. This very free translation is doubtless construed to Surrey's own ambitious 
designs in building jMount Surrey. It is most significant that there is no warrant in the 
original for the motive expressed in verse 12: "By princely actes thus straue I still to make 
my fame indure." The gaining of wisdom is the sole motive expressed in the original. 

21-24. Note the liberties here taken in translation (vs.8) : Feci mihi cantores et 
cantatrtces, et delicias filiorum hominum, scyphos et urceos in tninisterio ad vina fundenda. 

3.S-39. This is all an amplification of the sentence (vs. 12) : Transivi ad contemplan- 
dam sapicntiaDi, crroresque et stultitiam. 

35. "Then I realized how, thus glorying in my abilit\- to achieve mj- ends, 1 had been 
the victim of my pride." 

53-64. "Who can foretell the character of him to whom I must leave my goods?" 

.53-56. "As the just reward of folly is quickly forgotten after slanders' loathsome 
voice proclaims it, so that just fame which should attend the deserving is as quickly obliter- 
ated by time." 

77-82. A departure from the original (vs. 26) : Honiini bono in conspcctu suo dedit 
Deus sapientiam, et scientiam et laetitiam; peccatori aiitem dedit afflictionem et curani 
superfluain, ut addat, et congreget, et tradit ei, qui placuit Deo; sed et hoc vanitas est, 
et casiO sollicitudo mentis. 

81-S2. "But I, so far-famed for my riches, know how little value there is in the 
heaping up of treasure." 

50 

Surrey has construed ihc opening verses of this famihar chapter, designed to show 
the propriety of times and seasons, to a pronovmcemeni of the caprice and instability of 
man's conduct. 

5. "The plants which we grafted with so much trouble." 

11-12. Considering the destruction of the monasteries, a very suggestive Tudor in- 
terpretation of the Latm (vs. 5) : Tempus spargendi lapides, et tempus colligendi. 

25-33. An interesting treatment of the original (vs. 11) : Cuncta fecit bona in tempore 
suo, et munduni tradidit disputationi corum, ut non inveniat homo opus, quod operatus 
est Deus ab initio usque ad fineni. 

61-66. Surrey reads the golden mean and Christian largesse into this passage. The 
original is as follows (vs. 22) : Bt deprehendi nihil esse melius, quam laetari hominem in 
opere suo, et hanc esse partem illius. Quis enim eum adducet, ut post se futura cognoscat? 

51 
11-16. Cf. the Latin (vs. 4-6) : Rursum contemplatus sum onines labores hominum, 
et industrias animadverti patere invidiae proximi; et in hoc ergo vanitas, et cura superflua 
est. Stultus complicat manus suas, et comedit carnes suas, dicens: Melior est pugillus cum 
requie, quam plena utraque manus cum labore et afflictione animi. 



198 The; Poems of Surrey 

37-46. This passage is construed and elaborated from the following (vs. 14-15) : quod 
de career e catenisque interdum quis egrediatur ad regnum; et alius natius in regno, inopia 
consumatur. Vidi cunctos viventes, qui ambulant sub sole cum adolescente secundo, qui 
consurget pro eo. 

43-44. "I have seen others, friends or foes indifferently, wear their feet bare in pursuing 
those on whom fortune smiles." 

49. "A train equally as great." 

51-58. The King James translation does not recognize the following verse (17) 
which is the basis for these fervent lines: Multo enim melior esl obedientia, quam stul- 
forum victimae, qui nesciunt, quid faciunt mah. Surrey evidently had in mind, among 
other passages, Psalm 50. 17 (Psalm 51, 17, in the King James version) : Sacrificium Deo 
spiritus contribulatus : cor contritum et humiliatum, Deus, non despicies. 

52 

2')-30. These verses give utterance to that doctrine of moderation so often met in the 
writers of this period. See notes to 41. 

The couplet is an interpolation, though the thought is the converse of that in verse 
9 of the Vulgate (vs. 10 of the King James version), in which the discontent of the 
rich is expressed. 

31-32. The fine sentiment in this couplet is construed from the following (vs. 8) : 
Et insuper universae terrae rex imperat servienti. 

37-38. The original hardly warrants this construction (vs. 10) : Ubi multae sunt opes, 
multi at qui comedunt eas. Bt quid prodest possessori, nisi quod ccrnit divitias oculis suis. 

40. Nott alters to read, "and feasts of none excess", but the Vulgate confirms the 
manuscript reading (vs. 11) : Dulcis est somnus opcranti, sive parum, sive multuni comedat. 

41-42. The meaning of this awkward passage would seem to be something as follows : 
"But the rich lie awake, whose animal heat cannot so soon induce rest, because it cannot 
digest the variety of meats with which they have overcharged their bodies." The Latin 
is as follows (vs. 11) : Saturitas autem divitis non sinit eum dormire. 

53-62. In this passage the poet construes the thought to extol benevolence. The 
vulgate reads (vs. 17-18) : Hoc itaque visum est mihi bonum, ut comedat quis, et bibat, 
et fruatur laetitia ex labore suo, quo laboravit ipse sub sole numero dierum vitae suae, 
quos dedit ei Deus, et haec est pars illius. Et omni homini, cui dedit Deus divitias, atque 
substantiam potestatemque ei tribuit, ut cominedat ex eis, et fruatur parte sua, 
et laetetur de labore suo : hoc est donum Dei. 

53 

This Psalm is found only in MS. A. It has none of the intense emotion of the other 
three Psalms, and may have been written at an earlier period. The translation is free, 
very spirited, full of color, and worshipful in tone. 

45-52. The only suggestion for these lines is the concluding verse (10) : Domine 
Dominus noster, quam admirable est nomen tuum in universa terra. 

54 

Although this Psalm appears after Psalms 88 and 73 in both MSS. P and A, its 
haughty militant tone is in marked contrast to the exalted resignation that charac- 
terizes them, and has led Bapst to assign it to the early days — the 2 to the 12 — of 
December, 1546, during which Surrey, in common with his erstwhile friend, now his accuser, 
Sir Richard Southwell, was merely detained in custody. Surrey allows himself the utmost 
latitude in translation; indeed, the poem is to all intents and purposes autobiographical, — 
an angry invective against his enemies. 

11-12. "What means of flight can my complaints lay hold of, that I may escape 
from the stormy blasts that threaten me?" 



Critical Notes 199 

13. An interesting adaptation of the Latin (vs. 10): prae\cipita, Dotnine: divide lin- 
guas eorum. 

The "conjured league" are his accusers, such as Southwell, Sir Edmund Knyvet, and 
Sir Gawain Carew, who arose on every hand to inform against Surrey. 

22-25. Sir Richard Southwell, who had informed the Council that Surrey had used 
the arms of Edward the Confessor in quartering his arms. Southwell, though thirteen 
years older than Surrey, had long been an intimate friend. Surrey alludes to him as "my 
friend" in a letter to his father under date of October 15, 1536 (Letters and Papers, 11, 
727; quoted by Bapst, p. 220.); Southwell was for a time attached to the household of 
Norfolk, took part with Surrey in the Pilgrimage of Grace, and served under him in France. 

26. I see no need of altering "them" to "him". The poets mind here reverts to 
the many enemies that suddenly had come out into the open, the "conjured league". 
The original itself observes this sudden change to the plural (vs. 16) : Venxat mors super 
illos, et descendant in infernutn viventes. 

38-39. The Vulgate merely says (vs. 22) : Molliti sunt sermones ejus super oleum; 
et ipsi sunt jacula. Surrey evidently had in mind the prior English translations. 

43-48. At this point Surrey impatiently drops the role of translator, and gives vent 
to his indignation. The "friar", whose falseness is here condemned, has not been identi- 
field. He was evidently some ecclesiastic who had been a party to the accusation, or who, 
during Surrey's confinement, had sought to deceive him, perhaps by giving him false 
assurance. 

47. By "thother Psalm" I think that Surrey meant not another Psalm, but the 
untranslated verse (23) of the present Psalm : Jc^cta super Dominum curam tuam, et ipse te 
enutriet : non dabit in aeternum fluctuationem juste. Perhaps the poet had quite as much 
in mind the succeeding and final verse: Tu vera, Deus, deduces eos in puteum interitms. 
Virt sanguinum, et dolosi non dimidiabunt dies suos; ego autem sperabo in te, Domine. 

55 

This poem is marked by a spirit of repentance and deep humility; it is the utterance 

of a Christian gentleman schooling himself to the thought of death. Verse 37, "My 

wretched state beholde whome death shall strait assaile," to all intents an interpolation, 

leaves no doubt, quite aside from other testimony, as to the time of composition. The 

poet has construed a Psalm which, though "containing a grievous complaint", is not 

penitential, to voice his own deep sense of repentance. Thus, verses 3-4, 

Graunt that the iust request of this repentaunt mynd 
So perce thyne eares that in thy sight som fauour it may find, 

are represented in the Latin only by the following (vs. 3) : Intret in conspectu tuo oratio 

mea: inclina aurem tuam ad precem meam. Verse 5: "My sowle is fraughted full with 

grief of follies past," is construed from the words (v. 4), Quia repleta est malis anima 

mea. Again, verses 33-34, 

And in the morning eke, when that the slepe is fledd, 
With floods of salt repentaunt teres to washe my restles bedd, 

are construed from the clause (v. 14), Et matie oratio mea praeveniet te. 

9. "To please my foe" is a pure interpolation. ' 

13-14. The very personal application of these verses is emphasized by a comparison 
with the Latin (vs. 9) : Longe fecisti notos meos a me: posuerunt me abominationem sibi. 

19-31. The translation is here very free. Thus, verses 19-22 are represented in the 
Latin only by the clause (v. 11), Numquid mortuis fades mirabilia? Verses 25-26 trans- 
late (v. 13), Numquid cognoscentur in tenebris mirabilia tua, et justitia tua in terra ob- 
livionis. Verses 29-30 are interpolated. 

37-38. The Latin merely says (v. 16) : Pauper sum ego, et in laboribus a juventute 
mea: exattatus autem, humiliatus sum et conturbatus. 



200 The Poems of Surrey 

43-44. Note that Surrey does not, as does the Psalmist, attribute this forced absence 
of his friends to God's doings: (v. 19) : Elongasti a me amicum et proximum et notos meos 
a miseria. 

56 

29-30. Cf. the Latin (v, 13) : Ergo sine causa justificavi cor meuni, et lavi inter 
innocentes manus meas. 

34-37. Cf. the Latin (v. 15-16): Si dicebam: Narrabo sic: ecce nationem filiorum 
tuorunr- reprobavi. Extstimabam, ut cognoscerem hoc, labor est ante me. 

39-51. Surrey clearly has his proud enemies in mind. 

43-48. An amplification of the following verse (20) : Velut somnium surgentium, Dom- 
ine, in civitate tua imagineni ipsorum ad nihilum rediges. 

49-50. .A. very free adaptation; the Latin reads (v. 21): Quia inflammatum est cor 
meum, et renes mei commutati sunt. 

53. This verse is an interpolation, and therefore doubly significant as a biogra- 
phical reference. It is one of several passages in his Psalms which show that Surrey 
had long had bitter enemies. 

15-56. A poetical translation of the words (v. 24) : Tenuisti manum dexteram meaiii. 

57 

Surrey's translation of the second book of the ^neid cannot be assigned to an 
earlier date than 1539, as it shows frequent indebtedness to the Italian translation by 
Cardinal Hippolito de Medici or his secretary which appeared as a separate volume that 
year, and appeared in the following year in a translation of the first six books by vari- 
ous authors. 

There is some uncertainty as to which of the two books, the second or the fourth, 
Surrey translated first. The fact that the translation of the fourth book is obviously 
indebted to the Italian version in blank verse by Nicolo Liburnio published in 1534. and 
that this translation owes little if anything at all to the translation by Piccolomini which 
appeared in the 1540 volume referred to above, and the further fact that the fourth book 
seems to have been better known, — so much better, in fact, that Day printed it in 15,54, 
apparently ignorant that Surrey had translated any other book — , favor assigning priority 
of translation to this book. 

On the other hand, the second book is more indebted to the translation by Hippolito 
than is the fourth book to the version by Liburnio, and the second book leans much more 
upon the Scotch translation by Gawin Douglas than does the fourth book. Moreover, 
the second book uses the old suffix en seven times (vs. 77, 291, 741, 196, 206, 824, 884) 
as opposed to four instances of its use in H {Ms. Hargrove 205)., the earliest version 
of Book Four; and the prefix y five times (vs. 137, 157, 219, 336, 523), as opposed to one 
instance in H. Furthermore, the anapaest is used only nine times (vs. 62, 245, 304, 435, 
591, 614, 755, 786, 991), and the amphibrach only two or three times (vs. 333, 638, 1012), 
in Book Two, as opposed to twelve anapaests and thirteen amphibrachs in H. (For the 
line references in H., see the introductory note to the notes on Book Four.) Surrej' 
employed these feet much more freely in his later verse. Again, as Imelm:inn points out, 
certain expressions in the second book which translate the Latin literally are to be met 
with again in the fourth book, where they can only be regarded as very free transla- 
tions. Thus Virgil 2. 98-99, spargere voces in vulgu7ii ambigiias, yields (2. 122) "In 
common eares false rumors gan he sozve," whereas v. 4. 189, Haec turn multiplici populos-^ 
sermone replebat, is translated (H. 244-245), 

This monster blith with manie a tale gan sowe 
This rumour then into the common eares. 

So also V. 2. 624, considere in ignes, yields (2. 821) "fall down in burning gledes", whereas 

V. 4. 167, fiilsere ignes, is translated (H. 215), "with burning gledes of flame." As sozv is a 



Critical Notes 201 

closer translation of spargere than of rcplehat, the presumption is that in each of these 
instances the phrasing in the fourth book was influenced by the phrasing in the second. 
Taking all factors into account, I am inclined to think that the second book was the 
first to be translated. 

In both books Surrey was much indebted to the Scotch translation by Douglas, 
borrowing words and phrases at will. I have not attempted to note all such obligations, 
but I have given characteristic instances in the notes to Book Two, and in the notes 
to Book Four have endeavored to quote all passages from Douglas which throw light 
upon the variants in the three versions of the translation. From the Italian translations 
I have intended to quote all significant passages. I question, however, whether Surrey 
actually borrowed from Piccolomini at all, a doubt that is also entertained by Miss 
Willcock. Surrey's great indebtedness to the Italians was in the matter of form. In 
them he had models of concise translation, in contrast to the prolixity of Douglas. His 
ambition would seem to have been to surpass the Italians themselves in succinctness and 
he actually succeeded in compressing the thought into fewer lines than they, approximating 
the frugality of the Latin itself. Thus Virgil has 705 lines in Book Four; Liburnio, 1141; 
Piccolomini, 1005 ; and Surrey, 940. 

In translating the second book Surrey would also seem to have been mindful of a 
French translation by Octavien de Sainct Gelais, Bishop of Angoulesme, which was part 
of Les Oeuvres de Virgille that appeared in 1529. There is some reason to think that 
Douglas had access to this translation in manuscript form. I have not been able to 
secure rotographs of this book, but have noted the more significant parallelisms from the 
table of comparative passages furnished by Fest. 

18-22. Cf. Dg (68.1-5).: 

The Greikis chiftanes, irkit of the weir 
Bypast or than so mony langsum jeir, 
And oft rebutit by fataile destany, 
Ane huige hors, like ane greit hill, in hy 
Craftelie thai wrocht in wirschip of Pallas. 

22. Minerua may be suggested by Hip. (li) : di mincrua Con diuin'arte. 

36-39. Cf. Dg (69.4-8).: 

Quharfor all thai of Troy, blyth as thai mocht, 
Thair langsum duile and murnyng did away, 
Keist wp the portis and ischit furth to play, 
The Greikis tentis desyrus for to se, 
And voyd placis quhar thai war wont to be. 

40. Pyrrhus may be suggested by Hip. (45) : qui stauan le genti Di Pirrho. 

71-72. Cf. Oct (Fest 59).: 

Las! si fortune alors nous eust bien dit, 
Allheure estoit leur prinse descouverte. 

V( 54-55). reads: 

Et, si fata deum, si mens non laeva fuisset, 
Impulerat ferro Argolicas foedare latebras. 

74-78. Cf. Dg(71.1-5).:, 

Lo, the ilk tyme, harland onto the King 
Troiane hirdis with greit clamour did bring 
A jong man, baith his handis behynd his bak 
Hard bundin, that wilfully for to be tak 
Rendrit himself. 

82-83. The influence of Hip (98-100). is apparent: 

La giouentu Troiana d' ogn' intorno 

Sparsa corre a uederlo e fanno a gara, 

Chi piu faccia al prigion uergogna e scorno. 

V (63-64). reads: 

Undique visendi studio Troiana iuventus 
Circumfusa ruit, certantque inludere capto. 

87. Cf. Hip (104).: Sbigottito nel uolto. V(67). reads: 

Namque ut conspectu in medio turbatus. 



202 The Poems oe Surrey 

135. Cf. Oct(Fest 59).: reprint son dire. V(107). merely reads fatur. 
293. Oct(Fest 58). may have influenced the translation: 

Droit au temple de la dame Pallas. 
V(232). does not mention the name of the goddess: 

Ducendum ad sedes simulacrum orandaque divae 

Numina conclamant. 

298-301. Cf. Dg(81.31-82.4).: 

The fatale monstour clame our the wallis then, 

Greit wamit, and stuff it full of armyt men; 

And thair about ran childring and maidis jing, 

Singand carellis and dansand in a ring; 

Pull wele was thame, and glad was euery wycht, 

That with thair handis anis twich the cordis mycht. 
311. Cf. Hip (363).: dal uoler di Dio sospinta: whereas C(247). only says: Ora, 
dei iussu non umquam credita Teucris. 

339. Cf. Hip (395).: Le coniurate lor schiere ordinando. V{2^7). reads: agmina 
conscia iungunt. 

352. Cf. Hip (410).: 

e iniiolti i crespi crini 
Nel sangue hauea. 

V(277). merely says, concretos sanguine crinis. 

395. Cf. Hip. (457) : 

Allhor la falsa fede e i fieri inganni 
De i Greci ascosti u' appariscon ueri. 

V (309-310). reads: 

Tum vero manifesta fides, Danaumque patescunt 
Insidiae. 

445-462. Cf. Dg (89.8-30).: 

O, je most forcy jong men that bene heir. 

With breistis Strang, and sa bald curage hie. 

In vayne je preis to succour this citie 

Quhilk byrnis all in fire and flambis reld; 

The goddis ar all fled out of this steid. 

Throw quhais mycht stuide our empire mony day; 

Now all thair templis and altaris waist leif thai. 

Bot gif jour desire be sa fermlie prest 

To follow me, dar tak the wtyrmest 

Quhat fortune is betyde. all thingis je se; 

Thair is na mair; lat ws togidder dee, 

And in amyd our enemyis army schute. 

To wencust folkis is a confort and bute 

Nane hoipe of help to beleif, or reskew. 

Swa, with thir wourdis, the jong menis curage grew, 

That in the dyrk like rawynnis w^olfis, or rawis, 

Quham the blynd fury of thair empty mawis 

Dryvis furtht of thair den to seik thair pray, 

Thair litle quhelpis left with dry throtis quhill day; 

So, throw the w^apnis and our fais went we 

Apoun the deid vndowtit, and wald not fle. 

Amyd the cietie we held the master streit; 

The dirk nycht hid ws with clos schaddowis meit. 

515. The translation was probably influenced by the Italian (595) : 
Contra al uoler de i Dei speranza alcuna. 
V(402). reads Heu nihil invitis fas quemquam fidere divis. 

518. Cf. Hip (600).: Gli occhi infiammati. V(405). reads: ardentia lumina. 

544. Cf. Hip (629).: A gli altar sacri de I'armata dea. V(425). reads: divae armipo- 
tentis ad aram. 

593-601. Cf. Dg( 95.25-96.1).: 

Theirat I enterit, and to the wallis hycht 
Wpwent, quhair wrechit Troianis, as thai mycht, 
Tlirew doun dartis, thocht all was bot in waist. 
We stert ontill a hie turret on haist, 
The top wpstrekand to the sterris hie, 
Quharon we wont war all Troy for to see. 
The Grekis schippis, and thair tentis eik. 
With instrumentis of yrne we pyke, and seik 
Round all about quhar the jonyngis war worn. 



Critical Notes 203 



607-608. Cf. Hip (691-692).: 



Al portico dinanzi, e ne la prima 
Porta con 1' arme staua lieto Firrho. 



V (469-470). merely says: 

Vestlbulum ante ipsum primoque in limine Pyrrhus 
Exultat. 

65.S-665. Cf. Dg(98.17-99.5).: 

Perauentur, of Priamus je wald speir 

How tyde the chance; his fait, grif je list, heir. 

Quhen he the cietie saw takin and doun bet, 

And of his palice broken every jet, 

Amyd the secrete closettis eik his fais. 

The aid gray, all for nocht, to him tays 

His hawbrek quhilk was lang furth of vsage, 

Set on his shoulderis trymbling than for age; 

A swerd, but help, about him beltis he. 

And ran towart his fais, reddy to de. 

Amyd the cloiss, vnder the hevin all bair, 

Stude thair that tyme a mekle fair altair, 

Neir quhame thar grew a rycht auld laurer tree, 

Bowand towart the altair a little wee. 

That with his schaddow the goddis did ourheild. 

675-676. The repetition of such is suggested by Hip. (778-779) : 

Non tale aiuto, non difese tali 
Quanto tempo richiude. 

685-686. Cf. Hip. (788-789).: 

e piegato le gran corti uote 
Ricerca in uano. 

V(528-529). reads: vacua atria lustrat Saucius. 

711. Without sound: Cf. V (544-545).: 

Sic fatus senior, telumque imbelle sine iotu 
Conjecit rauco quod protinus aere repulsum. 

721. Cf. Hip. (826) : 

Questo di fatti fu di priamo il fine. 

V(554). reads: 

Haec finis Priami fatorum; hie exitus ilium 
Sorte tulit. 

740-745. Cf. Dg(102.1-6).: 

All war thai fled full wery, left me allane; 
Sum to erd loppin fro the hie towris of stane, 
Sum in the fyre thair irkit bodyis leit fall. 
Thair was na ma bot I left of thame all, 
Quhen in the temple of Vesta the goddes 
Lurkand full law, infill a secrete place — 

749. Cf. Hip (853).: 

Per la ruina de la antiche mura. 

V(57l). merely says: eversa ob Pergama. 

781-782. Cf. Hip (889).: 

Piglio, qual gran furor ti m.uoue, e spinge 
Ire si fiero? 

V(594). reads: 

Nate, quis indomitas tantus dolor excitat iras. 

788. Cf. Hip (897).: 

E se non fusse ch'io pur gli ho difesi. 

V(599). reads: ni mea cura resistat. 

795. Cf. Hip (906-907).: e ti fa oscuro intorno. V(605) reads: et umida circum 

Caligat. 

818-823. Cf. Dg(105.3-9).: 

This saing, sche hir hid in the clos nycht. 
Than terrible figuris apperis to my sycht 
Of greit goddis, semand with Troy aggrevit. 
And tho beheld I all the citie misclievit. 
Fair Ilion all fall in gledis doun. 
And, fra the soill, grete Troy, Neptunus toun, 
Ourtumblit to the ground. 



204 The; Poems of Surrey 

Rased may have been suggested by Oct(Fest 59).: 

Liors me sembla que tout fust embrase 
En feu et flammes Ilion et ras&. 

859. Cf. Hip (978-979). : al crudo fato Ceder. V(653). reads, fatoque urgenti incumbere. 

880-890. Cf. Dg( 107.22-108.1).: 

The lattir end, thus vencust and wndone, 
Callis ws agane to battale and assay: 
Haue done, cum on, this is our lattir day. 
Rendir me to the Grekis, or suffir me 
The bargane agane begwn at I ma see; 
This day wnwrokin we sail neuir al be slane. 
About me than my swerd I belt agane, — 

And litle lulus forgane his fadir upset: 

Gif thou list pas, quod sche, thi self to spill — 

896. Cf. HipC 1020-1021).: 

Ella cosi gridaua, e d'un gran pianto 

Tutta la casa empiua. 

V(679). reads: 

Talia vociferans gemitu tectum omne replebat. 
915. Cf. Hip (1044-1045).: 

e seco indi trahea 
Con molta luce una facella aocesa. 

V(694). reads: facem ducens. 
917. Cf. Hip( 1048-1049).: 

ne la selua Idea 
Asconder i suoi raggi. 

V(696). reads: Idaea claram se condere silva. 

921-925. Cf. Dg( 109.19-24).: 

With that, my fader vencust start on fuite, 
And to the goddis carpis to be our bruite. 
The haly sterne adornit he rycht thair: 
Now, now, quod he, I tary ne langair; 
I follow, and quhiddir je gide me sail I wenfl. 
O native goddis, jour awne kinrent defend. 

943-944. Cf. Oct(Fest 58).: 

Ung temple y a de longue antiquity, 
Jadis basty pour Ceres la deesse. 

V(714). merely says: templum vetustum Desertae Cereris. 

967. Cf. Oct(Fest 58).: 

bien certes pensoye 
Estre echappe de peril. 

V (730-731). reads: 

omnemque videbar 
Evasisse viam. 

1051. Cf. Oct(Fest .58).: I'enfant qui fuit c tien e mien. 
V(789). reads: nati commimis. 

58 

There are extant three sixteenth century versions of Surrey's translation of the 
fouth book, a version printed by John Day for William Owen, presumably in 1554, Tottel's 
printed version of 1557, and a version in Ms. Hargrave 205. Of these three, the manu- 
script version, though Elizabethan, most nearly reproduces Surrey's original translation. 
The ms. contains, in addition to the translation. The Tragedy of Gismund of Salerne and 
a dictionary of poetical epithets. As the tragedy and the translation are in the same 
hand, the small conventional hand of the professional scribe, and as the tragedy is 
early Elizabethan work, having been produced before the Queen by the "Gentlemen of 
the Inns of Court" in 1568, this copy of the translation cannot be pre-Elizabethan. Mani- 
festly the copy was made for some gentleman who felt the sixteenth century gentleman's 
preference for a manuscript, rather than a printed, version. But though the copy is so 
late, it follows an original that must have been early and relatively authentic, for, as 



Critical Notes 205 

compared to the two printed texts, it contains many archaic words and traditional in- 
flections, grammatical irregularities, inconsistencies in tense, a relative disregard of the 
identity of word accent and of metrical accent, incomplete verses, and a greater indebtedness 
to the earlier translations, notably to that of Gawin Douglas. This version, slightly 
emended where errors and omissions would seem to have crept in, is presented as the 
nearest approach to Surrey's actual translation. It may be that the poet reworked his 
translation to some extent, but this version was the approximate basis for any such revision. 

Of Day's printed version, only one copy is known to be extant. Until the present 
year, this copy has formed a part of the rare library of Mr. Christie Millar at Britwell 
Court, Burnham Beeches. At the time of writing, it is in the hands of Sotheby, who 
is now disposing of the library. As scholars were not able to gain access to it, there has 
been much conjecture of late years about this volume, both as to the date of publication 
and the authenticity of the text. This uncertainty is now relieved through the series of 
studies being published by Miss Gladys D. Willcock, who gave a preliminary description 
of the ms. in The Modern Language Reviciv for July, 1919, a table of variants from the 
readings of T. and H. in the April number of this year, and who will discuss the 
question of readings in forthcoming numbers. Miss Willcock gained access to the book 
just before the opening of the war, but has been unable to revise her copy or correct her 
proof from the original text, as the library was closed during the war, and is now being 
dispersed. Her work, however, gives evidence of accuracy. 

The title-page of this book reads as follows : 

The Fourth Bake of Virgill, intreating of the love betiveen JEnea^ and Dido 

translated into English and draivnc into a strange metre by Henrye, late Earle of 

Surreye, ivorthy to be embrased. 

Imprinted at London by John Day for William Owen dwellyng in Paternoster 

Rowe at the sygne of the cock. 

Although the book is not dated, the question of date is virtually settled by the dedi- 
cation. This dedication, addressed to the son of the poet, Thomas Howard, Duke of 
Norfolk, is most illuminating : 

"To the most pussant prince, Thomas, Duke of Norfoike, Wylliam Owen, hys most 
humble oratour wysheth perpetual helthe and felicitie. 

"When it chaunced a copye of thys part of Virgill, translated by your graces father 
(right honorable lord) by the meanes of a frend of myne to come to my handes; I had 
not only held ye same as no small treasure because I had heard of it lyke as others the 

monuments of that noble wyt of hys but also my desj're was great at one tyme or 

other, yf by a meanes convenient I myght publyshe the same: and that the rather because I 
coulde understande of no man that had a copye thereof, but he was more wylling the 
same should be kepte as a private treasure in the handes of a few, then publyshed to the 
common profyt and delectacion of many. But so much as my copye, although it were 
taken of one wrytten with the authors owne hande, was not yet so certaine that it 
might be thoughte of ytself suffycient to be publyshed, partly for that the writer had 
not tyme sufficient to the due examinacion thereof, after it was written, and also because the 
redyng of the authors copye itself, by reason of the spedy writing therof, was somewhat 
doutful : for these causes gettyng two other copyes also, wrytten out by other men, I 
caused myne to be conferred with them bothe, and of thejTn yt to be received as most 
worthye to be allowed, whiche was both to the Latyn most agreable and also best standing 
with the dignity of that kynde of metre. 

"And this my doying I trust no honest man shall be able to reprove, but rather 
it shall be an occasion to such as favour the monumentes of so noble a wyt, yf they have 
a better copye to publyshe the same. As for the unthankful I passe not how much they 
repine at my dede, so that I may understande your grace to take in goode part my goode 
wyll herein; whyche if you do (as I nothyng dout of your graces goodnesse) yt shall 
no little encourage me hereafter to bryng other hys workes to light as they shall come to 



206 The Poems of Surrey 

my handes. Thus beseching our Lord God to continue your grace in welth and increse 
of virtue, I wyshe you hartily wel to fare." 

Miss Willcock correctly argues that as the poet's son became the Duke of Norfolk 
on the death of his grandfather in August 1554, and as Day presumably issued no books 
in 1555 and 1556 (Cf. E. Gordon Duff, Century of Printing, p. 58), this book, which 
must have preceded Tottel's edition of 1557 inasmuch as it presents only the fourth book 
and that in a version obviously known to Tottel, must have appeared in the closing months 
of 1554. 

Despite the claims of the dedication, the book is most carelessly done, for it con- 
tains a very large number of misprints. These, however, are easily detected. 

A line by line comparison of H. and D. leaves no room for doubt that in the main 
H. furnishes earlier readings than D. In the first place, H. shows much more indebted- 
ness to the Scotch translation by Douglas than does D., there being many passages in 
which D. departs from earlier readings as found in H. which had been influenced by 
this translation, and only a solitary passage in which the reverse is true. Moreover, D. 
builds out three lines metrically incomplete in H. (230, 693, 892. Here, and in subsequent 
references, the line numbers are those of D., which are identical with those of T.) : it 
revises fifteen readings to avoid such archaisms as the old verbal suffixes en and eth, 
the verbal prefix y, the infinitive introduced by for to, and the auxiliaries nedes, gan, do, 
doth, did (2, 13, 22, 40, 83, 185, 187, 194, 355, 368, 495, 548, 785, 811 812) ; it revises 
twelve verses in the interest of accent (53, 173, 174, 239, 314, 460, 535, 583, 635, 782, 889, 
906) ; it revises twenty-one sentences to improve the syntax (29, 252, 254, 341-343, 277-Z79, 
384, 425, 454, 532, 601, 609, 664, 678, 717, 739, 750, 791, 806, 841-843, 898, 904) ; it successfully 
revises six verses to secure more finished phrasing (14, 191, 650, S73, 892, 905) ; and 
effectively revises twenty-eight passages, — words, phrases, or entire sentences — , in 
the interest of accurate translation (54, 133, 135, 184, 268, 300, 329, 341,-343, 375, 408-412, 
483, 486, 579, 587, 656, 674, 686, 694, 702, 750, 775, 778, 779, 796, 816, 873, 893, 909). Again 
it makes very generous use of the anapaest and amphibrach, employing the former three 
or four times as often as does H., and the amphibrach twice as often. 

On the other hand, there are some verses in D. that are more defective in syntax and 
in metre, and a large number that are more defective in translation than the corresponding 
vei-ses in H. These will be considered later. 

The interesting question at once arises, did Surrey himself make some, or all, of 
the revisions enumerated above. That he did not make all of them is certain; on the 
other hand, it is conceivable, although the evidence is rather inconclusive, that he did 
make some of them. 

Comparison with those poems which were obviously written in his later years creates 
a strong presumption against attributing to Surrey those changes in D. made in the interest 
of more modernized reading. The following very partial series of references to the later 
poems will show how freely Surrey used the infinitive introduced by for to and the aux- 
iliaries gan and do in his later verse : 
The infinitive introduced by for to : 

Psalm 88 (No. 55; date, 1546): vs. 17, IS. 
"Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exyle" (No. 33; date, 1544-1546) : vs. 11. 
The auxiliaries do, did, doth : 

Prologue to Psalm 73 (No. 36; date 1546) : vs. 9. 

Psalm 73 (No. 56; date 1546): vs. 3. 

Psalm 88: vs. 42. 

"Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exyle" : vs. 3. 

A Tribute to Wyatt (No. 44; date 1542) : vs. 13, 14. 

A Second Tribute to Wyatt (No. 45; date, 1542) : vs. 1, 12, 13. 

A Third Tribute to Wyatt (No. -46; date, 1542): vs. 5, 9, 18. 

A Tribute to Thomas Clere (No. 47; date, 1545) : vs. 6, 11. 



Criticai, Notes 207 

The auxiliary gan ; 

"Eache beeste can chuse his feere" (No. 34; date, 1542): vs. 12, 18, 26. 
Prologue to Psalm 73 : vs. 10. 
Psalm 73: vs. 34, 

The verbal suffix ed treated as a separate syllable occurs about once in every ten 
lines in H., an average that is maintained in the later poems. Again, the suffix eth is 
very common in the later poems, the poet affecting it rather than avoiding it. 

There remain those rare instances in which H. uses the verbal suffix en and the verbal 
prefix y. The former occurs four times (vs. 13, 84, 247, 545) and the latter once (vs. 9), 
With the exception of vs. 247, D. revises all of these lines to obviate the archaisms. As 
these forms are not to be met in any of the later poems, the revisions are clearly in line 
with Surrey's ultimate practice. Moreover, as the suffix en occurs seven times in the 
translation of Book Two and the prefix y, five times, unless H. itself represents the re- 
vision of some still earlier version, the translation of the fourth book would seem to 
record the changing practice of the poet so far as these forms are concerned. The in- 
ternal evidence, however, does not favor assigning these revisions in D. to Surrey, for 
they violate that close translation of the Latin which Surrey seems to have been scrupulously 
careful to secure. Vs. 13 reads in H. : 

What dremes 
Be these that me tormenten thus afraide? 

D. revises to read : 

Be these that me tormented thus afray, 

changing the finite verb to a participle, and the participle to a finite verb. The Latin 

(9) favors H.: 

Anna soror, quae me suspensam insomnia terrent? 
Likewise in vs. 545 the Latin (417), vocat iam carbasus auras, favors the finite verb in H. : 

The streminge sayles abyden but for windes, 
rather than the participle abiding in D. 

Again, it is not likely that Surrey was responsible for those revisions in D. aimed to 
secure identity of word accent and metrical accent. He appreciated that blank verse must be 
flexible, that to sustain a spirited narrative the measure must be kept vigorous through a 
judicious interspersion of trochees and other feet, and there is abundant evidence that he 
aimed to keep his blank verse from becoming flabby or mechanical. 

Nor is it reasonable to assign to Surrey those many revisions in D. that result in 
anapaests and amphibrachs. To be sure, these feet are found more often in H. than in 
Book Two, the anapaest occuring twelve times in H. (58, 67, 161, 389, 415, 457, 484, 771, 809, 
866, 901, 924) as opposed to nine in Book Two (62, 245, 304, 435, 591, 614, 755, 786, 991), 
and, disregarding such elisions as eyen, heuen, descriest, the amphibrach occuring fifteen 
times in H. (117, 129, 219, 349, 424, 441, 536, 647, 675, 697, 709, 717, 722, 828, 908) as op- 
posed to three times in Book Two (332, 638, 1012). But D. affects these feet, adding 
over thirty anapaests and a dozen amphibrachs, often, in fact, inserting unnecessary words 
in order to secure them. The later poems do not show any such marked predilection for 
these feet. Moreover, T. does not follow D. in the majority of these readings, showing 
incidentally that D. represents the work of some reviser whose changes did not commend 
themselves to the later editor. 

The improvements in syntax that D. secures include many slight revisions to obtain 

uniformity in the tense and number of verbs, and a few elaborate revisions to remedy 

imperfect sentences. The former type of revision is illustrated in the following: H(528- 

529). reads: 

When the blake swarme creepes ouer all the feeldes, 

& thrawt the grasse by straight pathes dragg ther praye. 

D (532). replaces dragg by drags, thus securing consistency in number. As an example 

of the more elaborate revision may be cited the respective translations of vs. 628-629 : 

Litora litoribus contraria, fluctibus undas 
Imprecor, arma armis; pugnent ipsique nepotesque. 



208 The Poems of Surrey 

With his characteristic conciseness Surrej' translated to read (H. 836-838) : 

Our coostes to them contrarie be thai ale, 

I craue of God; that our streames to ther fluddes; 

Armes vnto armes; & of springe of ech race! 

D (841 -843). revised as follows: 

Our costes to them contrary be for aye, 
I crave of God; and our streames to their fluddes; 
Armes unto armes; and of spring of eache race 
With mortal warr eche other may fordoe! 

Although D. secures better sentence constrnction, it amplifies the last clause in a manner 
quite foreign to Surrey. While, therefore, Surrey may have made some of these re- 
visions, he clearly did not make all of them. 

The improvements in translation to be noted in D. concern for the most part such 
slight points as the translation of a singular noun by a plural, or a plural by a singular, 
or the closer translation of a Latin verb, but in a few instances D. corrects a glaring 
mistranslation. A conspicuous illustration of the latter is furnished in the translation 
of vs. 42-43 : 

Hinc deserta siti regio, lateque furentes 
Barcaei. 

Misunderstanding siti and taking it for a proper noun, Surrey originally translated 

as follows (H. 54-55): / .-/ ^'cy/v-ze 

On toother hand, a desert realme for thurste'. 
The Barceans, whose furie stretcheth wide. 

D. corrects to read : 

On thother hand, a desert realme for thurste. 
It is quite conceivable that Surrey made some of these revisions, because he was scrupulously 
anxious to secure an accurate translation, and one of the versions of which Owen, the editor 
of D., speaks may contain such author's revisions. 

On the other hand, there are more instances in which D. mistranslates where H. 
follows the Latin, than instances in which D. corrects faulty translations in H. Alto- 
gether I have noted thirty-four such passages (D., vs. 32, 41, 50, 72, 88, 161, 196, 208, 209, 
233-234, 261, 262, 270, 279, 330, 352, 362, 413, 421, 480, 519, 635, 646, 670, 707, 716, 809, 
846, 868, 907, 917). One or two glaring ilktstrations will suffice. Vs. 151-153 of the 
Latin read as follows : 

Postquam altos ventum in montes atque invia lustra, 
Ecce ferae, saxi deiectae vertice, caprae 
Decurrere iugis. 

H (196-199). translates: 

But to the hills and wide holtes when thei came, 
From the rockes toppe the wild savage rooes 
Availe the hill, & on th other syde. 
Over the laundes thei gan to take ther course. 

Rooes is of course not the exact equivalent of caprae, but D. mistook the word for the 

verb rose, and in an effort to emend, never consulting the Latin produced the following: 

From the rocks top the driven savage rose. 

Loe! from the hill above, on th other side, 

Throught the wyde lawnds they gan to take their course. 

Again, note the translation of the following (201-202) : 

pecudumque cruore 
Pingue solum et variis florentia limnia sertis. 
H (260-261). renders: 

The erthe imbrued with yelded blood of bestes, 
& thresholdes spredd with garlandes strange of hew. 
D reads : 

Flowers embrused yelded bloode of beastes, 

And threshold spred with garlands of strange hue. 

This ridiculous reading in D. is the result of some revisionist's misunderstanding of an 
earlier version, a version which supplied the line to T. : 

The floores embrude with yelded bloud of beastes. 



Criticai. Notes 209 

From this comparison, if not from the preceding, it is necessary to conclude that the 
inaccuracies in translation to be found in D. are not to be charged to an early author's 
version, but rather to conclude that Owen, or one of the revisers who made the copies to 
which Owen alludes in his Preface, revised without consulting the Latin. 

There are also frequent lines in D. that bespeak a very faulty ear (D. 39, 42, 395, 
431, 584, 595, 919), and other lines that contain phrases less vigorous or picturesque, in 
short less poetical, than the corresponding lines in H. (D. 27, 42, 165, 177, 226, 240, 320, 
324, 792.) I take it that none of these readings can be Surrey's. Thus, translating the 
following (247) : 

Atlantis duri, caelum qui vertice fulcit, 
H (318). reads: 

That with his crowne sustaines the welkin vp. 
D. substitutes sholders for crowne, which is less accurate, less metrical, and less picturesque. 
In the same context, D. alters the lines (321-322) : 

& from his chinn 

The springes discende, his herd frosen with yse, 
to read : 

The springes discende, his frosted beard with yse. 
Although the accent is normalized, the line is distinctly weakened. In attempting to improve 
the following line (H. 428), 

& these wordes few at lengthe furth gan he cast, 
D. treats wordes as a dissyllable and blunders into an unpleasant internal rhyme : 

These wordes yet at last then forth he cast. 
Surrey would never have been guilty of such lines as these. They should not be inter- 
preted as early and crude readings that remained imbedded in D. though corrected in H. 

Although, as stated above, D. is, in the main, less archaic than H., more correct in 
syntax, more careful in accentuation, and more regular in number of feet, there are a few 
instances in which the reverse is true. Thus D. 232 contains, as opposed to H., the infini- 
tive for to tell; and D. 247, a suffix in en: 

Aeneas comen sprong of Troyan blode. 
Are these reminiscent of Surrey's original readings? It may be. As opposed to H., D. 
also presents three instances in which the wrong tense is used: vs. 91, left for leaves; 99, 
stared for stareth; 219, withheld for withholdes. These also may represent Surrey's 
earHest readings. D. 492 contains an incorrect verb form, used to avoid an additional 
syllable : 

Ay me! with rage and furies am I drive. 
H. reads, he! I drive. As the Latin (376) uses a passive verb, Heu ! furiis, incensa feror, 
D. may here give Surrey's original rendering. There are, finally, four verses in D. 
(80, 300, 641, 805) in which the accents are faulty, as opposed to correct accentuation in 
H., and six verses (90, 312, 401, 445, 489, 765) in which four or six feet are used instead 
of five. Some of these lines also may furnish the original translations. Thus the Latin (234), 

Ascanione pater Romanas invidet arces? 
is rendered in D (299-300).: 

The towers yet of Rome doth he envy 
To yong Ascanus, that is his father? 

This is awkward, but it observes the force of the Latin dative, and sounds earlier than 

the corresponding line in H (298).: 

That is the father of Ascanius. 

There remain for consideration three passages in which D. merely quotes the Latin 

in lieu of translation, and a solitary passage in which D. is closer to the translation of 

Douglas (Dg.) than is H. As in two of the three instances in which D. quotes the Latin 

the same verses are untranslated in H( 152, 251-252)., the presumption is that Surrey 

had not found satisfactory translations and had left the lines for further consideration. 

The third passage is translated in H (387-391)., but as it is a peculiarly difficult one to 



210 The Poems of Surrey 

turn into equally concese English, D. is probably earlier than H., the Latin interpolation 

representing an original hiatus in Surrey's text. The Latin (301-303) is as follows: 

quails commotis excita sacris 
Thyias, ubi audito stimulant trieterica Baccho 
Orgia nocturnusque vocat clamore Cithaeron. 

H (387-391). translates: 

As Thyas sturrs, the sacred rites begonne, 

When the wonted third yeres sacrifice 

Doth prick her furth, hering Bacchus name halowed, 

& when the feastfull night of Cytheron 

Doth call her owt, with noise of her dawnsing. 

T (391-394). reads: 

And when the wonted third yeres sacrifice 

Doth prick her fourth, hering Bachus name hallowed, 

And that the festful night of Citheron 

Doth call her fourth, with noyes of dauncing. 

It may be, of course, that D. follows a reviser who noted the metrical irregularities in 

the original of H. and the faulty sj'ntax of the original of T., and so concluded to leave 

the passage for further study. The chances are, however, that Owen would not have 

printed the Latin if he had found any English version. This would seem to be one 

instance where the D. version is rather clearly the earlier. D. probably registers the 

earlier reading, also, in the solitary verse (257) in which it is closer to Dg. than is H. 

(See note to this line.) 

As a result of the whole comparative study, my conclusions are that D. is, in the 
main, a later version than H., and that while it probably restores a few of Surrey's 
earliest readings and may possibly contain some of the poet's later revisions, it is 
largely the work of other revisionists, of whom there were several. Thus one recognizes 
four well defined tendencies in the revisions : revisions made in the interest of grammatical 
correctnss or modernization ; revisions lacking in poetical imagination and in a feeling for 
the music of verse; revisions aiming at correctness of translation; and revisions that 
altogether ignore the Latin. As Owen had access to two other versions besides a copy of 
an author's manuscript, and as he probably undertook some fresh revisions on his own 
authority, D. may well be the product of three revisionists other than the poet, and perhaps 
of more than three. H. must therefore be regarded as the more nearly standard text. 

T. is much the most modern of the versions. It carries the revisions of syntax 
farther than D., secures metrical regularity, fills out incomplete lines and translates 
omitted passages, corrects errors in translation — though guilty of two or three glaring 
mistakes in translation, and secures clearness, and smooth and graceful phrasing, even at the 
expense of conciseness. It is the work of a revisor or editor who had good taste and a good 
ear, though more feminine in taste, less severe and bold, than Surrey. As a chapter in the 
development of English verse, it would be interesting to discuss in detail the characteristics 
of H. and T. relative to one another, but as this does not primarily concern Surrey, it 
does not properly belong to this study. 

6. T. gives the more ornate rendition; H., the more faithful: V(4).: haerent infixi 
pectore vultus. 

18. An individual rendering; cf. V(13).: Degeneres animos timor arguit. 

20. Note T.'s device to remedy atcheived as a three syllable word. 

21. Translation influenced by Dg(175. 10-10).: 

Now, certis, wer it nocht determyt with me, 
And fixit in my mynde unmovably. 
That to no wycht in wedlock me list I — . 

24. Bowndes (H.) is probably a scribal error for brandes; cf. V(18).: 

Si non pertaesum thalami taedaeque fuisset. 

Geniall is suggested by D(175.16).: Genyus chalmer. 

26. V(20). justifies the Anne of T. 



Critical Notes 211 

27. D. reads fewde. defiled, a weaker and less poetical phrase. 
36. V(29). reads: ille habeat secum servetque sepulcro. 
42. D. reads dust, a weaker word. 
43-47. T. is much closer to V (35-38).: 

Esto, aegram nulli quondam flexere mariti, 
Non Libyae, non ante Tyro; despectus larbas 
Ductoresque alii, quos Africa terra triumphis 
Dives alit. 
50. V(40). favors the plural: Hinc Gaetula urhes. 

54. Of Scythe (H.) results from misconstruing siti as a proper noun in the genitive 
case in the phrase (V. 42), Hinc deserta siti regio. D. and T. correct the error. Dg(177.4'. 
reads: Ay full of thirst. 

58. Cf. V(45).: Dis equidem auspicibus reor. Sufferance hardly does justice to the 
Latin. Purveiaunce is borrowed from Dg( 177.7-8)., and was doubtless the reading in the 

original ms. : 

Be dispositioun of goddis, I wene, non vther, 
And by the purviance of Juno. 

72. The reading of D. and T. is due to misunderstanding bidentis in the line (V.57), 

Mactant lectas de more bidentcs. The translation was probably influenced by Lb(89-90).: 

Secondo lo costume d'anni due 
Occidono le lor pecore elette. 

I am inclined to think that D. and T. here give the original version. 

79. Fatte (T.), not tall (H.), is the correct translation. The Latin (62) reads: 
pingues spatiatur ad aras. Cf. Dg(178.21).: 

Or pas tofore the Altaris, with fatt offerandis. 

T. 82-83, H. 82-84. T. is closer to the Latin (65-66) : 

Heu vatum ignarae mentes! quid vota furentem, 
Quid delubra iuvant? 

H. was influenced by the wordy tran.slation of Dg(l79.3).: 

O walaway! of spamen and duinis 

The blind myndis, quhilkis na way diffynis 

The force nor strenth of luif with his hard bandis! 

Quhat awalit thir sacrifise or offerandis? 

T.88, H.89. D., ignoring the Latin, reads yshotte for in Crete. 

T. 113, H. 114. Threatening and stretching translate aequata (V. 89). 

T. 115, H. 116. The Latin (91) reads, nee famam obstare furori. The original line 

was influenced by Dg., and T. gives this earlier version. Dg(180.23). reads: 

Nether fame nor honour the rage resist myeht. 
T. 126, H. 127. Cf. the Latin (101): 

Ardet amans Dido traxitque per ossa furorem. 
Dg(181.17). supports T. : 

For Dido birnis in halt luif all at anis. 

T. 127, H. 128. The Latin (102) favors T. : 

Communem hunc ergo populum paribusque regamus 
Auspiclis. 

The unrevised reading of H. was probably a scribe's error. Dg(181. 19-20). reads: 

Lat ws thir peple to ws common, forthy, 
By freyndlie favoris govern equaly. 

T. 133, H. 134. Thempire as in D. and T., the Latin (106) reading regnum. 

T. 135, H. 136. Strive as in D. and T., is the better translation; the Latin (108) reads 

Contendere bello. Cf. Dg(181.30-31). : 

or zit with the had lever 
Contend in batale. 

T. 137-129, H. 138-140. Cf. V ( 110-11 1 ). • 

Sed fatis incerta feror si luppiter unam 
Esse velit Tyriis urbem Troiaque profectis. 



212 The Poems of Surrey 

T. 152-155, H. 153-156. The Latin (120-122) reads: 

His ego nigrantem commixta grandine nimbum, f 

Dum trepidant alae saltusque indagine cingunt, 
Desuper infundam, et tonitru caelum omne ciebo. 

As D. quotes the Latin in lieu of translating Dwn trepidant alae, and as H. leaves it un- 
translated, the presumption is that Surrey did not understand the meaning of alae and 
left the passage for further consideration. T. leaves one in uncertainty as to what is 
meant by the winges of youth. If the meaning is the bandsi of young men who spread out 
to scare the game, the translation is free but approximates the meaning, as alae means either 
the red feathers used to scare the game or the huntsmen (alatores) employed in the 
service. Lb (192-194). translates: 

Mentre de cacciatori I'ali sparse 
Segon le fere, & con astutie pronte 
Cingono selue d'ogni parte, & ualli. 

PI (143-144). reads: 

Mentre le torme uanno infretta, e i boschi 
Cingon cercando le seluagge fere. 

H. follows Dg( 182.20). in employing range as a noun: 

Quhen that the rangis and the faid on breid 
Dynnis throw the gravis, sersing the woddis wyde 
And setis sett the glen on every side. 

D. reads ranger; as this results in an amphibrach, it is presumably a revised reading. T. 
153 is obviously revised by one who disregarded or misunderstood the Latin and did not 
heed the translation in D. 

T. 161, H. 162. H. is the closer translation (V. 127) : Hie hymenaeus erit. 
T. 165, H. 166. D. and T. give the distinctly weaker and less poetical reading 
T. 166, H. 167. T. is correct in interpreting partis as an ablative in the line (V. 130), 
It portis iubare exorto delecta iuventus. 
H. leans upon Dg ( 183.8-9). : 

fast to the ettis jthringis 
The chois galandis. 

T. 169, H. 170. Is the translation influenced by Lb(215).: 
Et d' usta buona gran copia de cani? 
The Latin (132) merely says: odora canum vis. 

T. 171, H. 172. H. and D. follow Dg(183.15). in the choice of the verb: the queue 
a7vatis. 

T. 174, H. 175. T. is closer to the Latin (136) : magna stipante caterva. 

T. 177, H. 178. D. reads wound up in, a less happy phrase. 

T. 184, H. 185. Viset, as in D. and T., is the closer translation (V.144) : ac Delum 
maternam invisit. 

T. 186, H. 187. Cf. V(146).: Cretesque Dryopesque. 

T. 196-198, H. 197-199. T. follows D. in mistaking rooes for a verb, and revised on that 

assumption. V(152). reads: 

Postquam altos ventum in montes atque invia lustra, 
Ecce ferae, saxi deiectae vertice, caprae 
Decurrere iugis. 

T. 208, H, 209. H. translates more closely than T. and D. The Latin (162) reads: 

Et Tyrii comites passim et Troiana iuventus. 

T. 209, H. 210. Cottages rather than cottage. Cf. V( 163-164).: diversa per agros 

Tecla metu petiere. 

T. 211-212, H. 212-213. T. follows V(165).: 

Speluncam Dido dux et Troianus eandem 
Deveniunt. 



H. follows Dg( 185.22-23). 

Within a c 
And eik th 

T. 226, H. 227. D. reads on hye, a less effective phrase. 



Within a cave is enterit Dido queyn. 

And eik the Troiane duke, all thaim allane. 



Critical Notes 213 

T. 230. Note that D. and T. here build out an original short line. 

T. 232, H. 22Z. Cf. V(181)., monstrum horrendum. 

T. 233-236, H. 234-237. H. and D. give the more literal translation (V. 181-183) : 

cui quot sunt corpore plumae 
Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu, 
Tot linguae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures, 

This version is also closer to Dg (1 86.22-23 ). : 

Hw mony fedderis bene on his body fynd, 
Als mony walkrife ene lurkis ther ondir. 

T. follows D. in the transposition of lines. 

H. 247. This line is omitted in H., but probably through scribal error, as it is found in D. 

T, 249-251, H. 250-251. There are no lines in H. and D corresponding to T. 250-251. 
Surrey probably left the passage for further consideration. T. furnishes a character- 
istically loose translation of the Latin (193-194) : 

Nunc liiemem inter se luxu, quam longa, fovere 
Regnorum immemores turplque cupidine captos. 

T. 252, H. 252. The present tense is correct; cf, V(195).: diffundit. 

T. 254, H. 254. Here also the present tense is correct; cf. V(197).: 

Incenditque animum dictls atque aggerat Iras. 
T. 256, H. 256. Cf. V(198).: 

Hie Hammone satus rapta Garamantide nympha. 
Cf. also Dg( 187.30).: 

Apon the maid revise Garamantida. 
T. 257-259, H. 257-258. T. expands the translation, in order to accomodate the 
Latin (199-200) : 

Templa lovi centum latis inmania regnis, 

Centum aras posuit, vigilemque sacraverat ignem. 

H. and D. were clearly influenced by Dg (187.31 -34). : 

Witliin his large realmis huge and braid 
Ane hundreth templis to Jupiter he maid, 
Ane hundreth altaris, quharin the walkrife fire 
He dedicate. 

D. is actually closer to Dg., for it reads. 

An hundred temples in his large realme he built. 

T. 262, H. 261. Thresholdes not threshold; cf. V(202)., limina. 

T. 268, H. 267. Feare, as in D. and T. translates the Latin (208-209) correctly: 

Aspicis haec, an te, Genitor. cum fulmina torques, 
Nequiquam horremus. 

T. 279, H. 278. H. gives the better translation in hallozve; cf. the Latin (218) : 
famamque fovcmus inanem. H. adopted the word from Dg( 189.1).: and in vane hallowis 
the name. T. follows D. 

T. 282, H. 281. D. reads: 

And with his loke gan thwart the royal walls. 
This may be the earliest reading. The Latin (220) is as follows : oculosque ad moenia 
torsit Regia. 

T. 287, H. 286. Rechlesse is clearly the reading to be preferred, as the Latin (225) 
shows : fatisque datas non respicit urbes. 

T. 292-293. T. inserts "such as one As mete might seme" to accomodate the Latin fore 

(229) in the following : 

Sed fore qui gravidam imperils belloque frementem 
Italiam regeret. 

T. 294, H. 292. In translating belloque frementem (V. 229) as Dreddfull in armes, 
Surrey may possibly have been influenced by PI (299)., who translates, Fra gran strepito 
d'armi. 

T. 295, H. 293. Neither Shelving in profe nor Discovering is an adequate translation of 
the Latin (231) Proderet. 



214 The Poems of Surrey 

T. 299-300, H. 297-298. H. fails to observe the force of the dative in the original 

(234), As\canione pater Romanas invidet areas. D. gives a correct but crude rendition, 

"To young Ascanus, that is his father", v^^hich may be the original reading. T. translates 

correctly and felicitously. Dg( 189-190). understands the Latin, but translates freely: 

Sit than the fadir aucht na wise to invy 
That Ascanius brake Romis senjeory. 

T. 320, H. 317. D. reads sholders, a poor substitution. 

T. 324, H. 321. D. reads frosted beard j a less fortunate phrase. 

H. 327. Is swymming a scribe's error? 

T. 330, H. 328. H. is correct in reading sondes; cf. V(257).: 

Litus harenosum ad Libyae, ventosque secabat. 

D. reads "Rushing betwixt sandcs." 

T. 337-339, H. 335-336. V(262-264). reads: 

Tyrioque ardebat murice laena 
Demissa ex umeris, dives quae munera Dido 
Fecerat et tenui telas discreverat auro. 

H. is influenced in phrasing by Dg(191.18).: 

Of mychty Didois g-ift wrocht all his wedis. 

but does not embody the idea that Dido made the garments. T. incorporates this idea and 

translates Tyrio ardebat murice wih a flourish. D. follovv^s H. 

T. 341-344, H. 338-341. T., following D., corrects the grammatical looseness and 

gives the more graceful and spirited translation, but H. closely follows the Latin order 

(265-267) : 

tu nunc Kathaginis altae 
Fundamenta locas pulcharamque uxorius urbem 
Exstruis? heu regni rerumque oblite tuarum! 

T. 349, H. 346. The Latin (271) reads, Quid struis. T. agrees with Dg(191.28). 
in reading zvhat; H. and D. with Dg. in reading builaest: Quhat buildis thou heir in Liby 
or Cartage. Probably the original version read zvhat buildest thou. 

T. 352, H. 349. The Latin (273) favors H. : 

Nee super ipse tua moliris laude laborem. 
T. Follows D. 

T. 362, H. 359. Flight not night as in T. and D. Cf. V(281).; Ardet abire fuga. Cf. 
also Dg(192.13).: Sair he langis to fie and to depart. 

T. 375-376, H. 372-373. Cf. V(290).: 

Arma parent, et, quae rebus sit causa novandis. 

T. 377, H. 375. D. and T. translate the adjective optima (291). H., in common with 
PL, omits it. 

T. 384, H. 381. The Latin (297) favors the past tense: motusque excepit prima futuros. 
Dg( 193.19)., however, uses the present: Thar departing at hand first sche espyis. 

T. 386-387, H. 383-384. Cf. the Latin (298-299) : 

Eadem impia Fama furenti 
Detulit armari classem cursumque parari. 

T. 390-394, H. 387-391. D. quotes the Latin in lieu of translation. As the passage 
is a peculiarly difficult one to translate into equally concise English, D. probably represents 
an original lacuna in Surrey's text. The and in T. 391 is obviously interpolated to correct 
the accents, but the last verse is better in D. than in T. The faulty syntax in T. and the 
repetition of phrasing is further evidence that the passage occasioned more or less ex- 
perimental translation. 

T. 396-397, H. 394-395. T. is closer to the Latin (305-306) : 

Dissimulare etiam sperasti, perflde tantum 
Posse nefas tacitusque mea decedere terra? 

Note that T. secures a run-on line. 

T. 408-412, H. 405-409. V(3l7-320). favors the sequence of ideas in D. and T.: 

Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quicquam 
Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis et istam, 
Oro, siquis adhuc precibus locus, exue mentem. 



Critical Notes 215 

H., however, renders more literally the clause, siquis adhuc precibus locus. Dg( 194.25-29). 

also observes the Latin order: 

Gif euer ony thank I deseruit towart the, 
Or ocht of myne to the was leif, quod sche, 
Haif mercy of our lynnage reddy to spill; 
Gyf tyme remains jit thow heir prayeris will, 
This fremmit mynd, I pray jow, do away. 

D. 413-414. D. offers the following garbled reading: 

The Libians and Tirians, tyrans of Nomodane, 
For thee me hate; my Tirians eke are wroth. 

T. 414. Note the change to a run-on line. 

H. 421. Influenced by Dg(195.16).: Had I ane child consavit. 

T. 431. In seeking to avoid the archaic gan, D. and T. stumble into an internal rhyme. 
T. is based ori D., which reads, These wordes yet at last then forth he cast. 

T. 436, H. 433. Limmes is correct; cf. V(336).: dum spiritus hos regit artiis. Did 
the transcriber of H. misread an original limes as lines, and then substitute wordes as more 
in keeping with the context? 

T. 437, H. 434. Neither version quite catches the meaning of the Latin (337) : Pro re 
pauca loquar. 

T. 443, H. 440. Permitted may show the influence of Lb(552).: S'i fati permettesser. 

T. 445-446, H. 442-443. This passage is rather clearly indebted to Lb(555-557).: 

Primeramente la citta, troiana, 
Et de li miei le reliquie dolci 
Ristorerei. 

V (342-343). reads: 

Urbem Troianam primum flulcesque meorum 
Reliquias colerem. 

H. 454. Imelmann suggests, with some likelihood, the influence of PI (466-467).: 

e k noi 
Lecito § ricercar gli strani regni. 

V(350). reads: Et nos fas extera quaerere regna. 

T. 480, H. 477. The Latin (367) justifies the plural in tigres. 

T. 483, H. 480. The Latin (369) favors D. and T.: Num fletu ingemuit nostro? 

T. 487, H. 484. Y{Z72)). reads: nusquam tuta fides. The English is influenced by 
Dg(198.l7).: For noquhare now faith nor lawte is found. Imelmann suggests the influ- 
ence of PI (502-503). as well: 

Alcuna sicurtade al mondo 
La fe non trova. 

Lb (603). reads: In nessum loco sicura e la fede. 

T. 517, H. 514. V(392). merely says: stratisque reponunt. Lb (637). reads: Et 
ripongola tra lelti honorati, and PI (562)., al riccho letto. 

T. 525, H. 523. T. gives the more colorful translation of celsas (397) in high rigged. 

T. 533, H. 530. Lb(659-660). seems to have influenced this translation: 

Parte per trascinar i maggior grani 
Di formento con spalle appunta. 

V (405-406). reads: 

pars grandia trudunt 
Obnixae frumenta umeris. 

T. 537, H. 534. Cf. Lb(665).: Da torr' eccelsa. 

T. 557-559, H. 554-556. The influence of Lb (690-694). is obvious: 

Digli, ch' io non unque congiurai 
Con greci in porto Aulide k, la ruina 
De la troiana gente, ne mi' armata 
Contra le mnra mai di Troia misi. 

T. 567, H. 573. V(436). reads: cumulatam morte remittam. Imelmann suggests the 

indebtedness of H. to PI ( 597-598). : 

io morendo 
Poi te ne renderd larga mercede. 



216 The Poems oe Surrey 

T. 584. D. gives the following awkward reading: 

Blowing now from this, now from that quarter ,blow. 

T. 589, H. 586. D. and T. observe the Latin gender of quercus. D (203.2)., however, 
employes the masculine. 

H. 590. Cf. Dg (207.6).: 

That all for nocht the teris war furth jet. 

T. 637, H. 605. V(460). reads: Hinc exaudiri voces. Dg(204.8). reads Quharin. 

T. 610, H. 608. T. is both more literal and more poetical; cf. V (462-463).: 

Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo 
Saepe queri et longas in fletum ducere voces. 

T. 625, H. 623. Sitting is correct; cf. V(473).: ultricesque sedent in limine Dirae, 
and Dg (204.32).: Sittand in the temple port to wreik hir deid. 

T. 635, H. 632. D. reads: 

Toward the ende of the great Octian. 
The adjective does not occur in V(480).: Oceani finem iuxta. 

T. 636, H. 633. The Latin (480) merely says : solemque cadentem. H. and D. 
follow Dg(205.15).: Thar as the son declynis and gois down. 

T. 640-644, H. 637-641. V (483-486). reads: 

Hinc mihi Massylae gentis monstrata sacerdos, 
Hesperidum templi custos epulasque draconi 
Quae dabat et sacros servabat in arbore ramos. 

T. translates the passage loosely and amplifies the thought. H. gives a compressed and, 

if the ms. reading of vs. 640 — the garden — be kept, an incorrect translation. Imelmann 

stibstitutes zvarden, and attributes the word to Dg(205.23).: And zvardane of the riall 

temple, thai say. I think it much more likely, however, that the original reading was garder 

(cf. O. F. garder) or gardian, misread by some early copyist. Gardian is supported by 

Liburnio, and that Surrey had his ej'e upon the Italian translation is rather clear from the 

subsequent lines, in which, like Liburnio, he violates the Latin in making the dragon the 

preserver of the sacred fruit (788-792) : 

guardiana 

Del tempio de I'Hesperidi, qual daua 

Pasto al dragone conseruante i rami 

Sacri ne I'arbor. humido spargendo 

Mel, & papauer che sogno produce. 

H. also violates the Latin in ascribing the honey and the poppy to the holy fruit, a mis- 
take that may have resulted from misunderstanding the construction of spargendo in the 
above. 

The Scotch translation reads : 

And to the walkryf dragon meit gaf sahe, 
That kepit the goldyn apillis in the tre, 
Strynkland to hym the wak hony sweit. 
And sleipryfe chesbow seid, to quickin his spreit. 

Garden was probably the reading in a ms. which T. revised, and this would seem to 
explain why the word remains imbedded in T., though the translation has been sufficiently 
amplified to accomodate custos. 

T. 653, H. 649. Hills, not hill as in T. and D. V(491). reads: et descendere montibus 
ornos. 

T. 656, H, 652. Artes as in T. and D., the Latin (493) reading: magicas artes. 

T. 670, H. 666. Thinges, not thing as in T. and D. V(S02). reads aut graviora timet. 

T. 672-673. Note that T. here corrects the metrical irregularities in H. 

T. 684-686, H. 680-682. V (510-511). reads: 

Erebumque Chaosque 
Tergeminamque Hecaten, tria virginis ora Dianae. 

Figures was suggested by Dg (207.21).: The thre figuris of the virgin Dynae. Greislie 

was also suggested by Dg. Note that D. like T. reads faces. 

T. 692-693. Note the amplification in T. and D. to correct the faulty scansion in H. 



Critical Notes 217 

T. 694, H. 690. Mole, as in D. and T., rather than milk; cf. L(S17). mola. 

H. 696. Influenced by Dg(208.7).: Or persavis kiifaris inequhale of behest. 

T. 702, H. 698. D,, followed by T., keeps closer than H. to the Latin (522) syntax: 

Nox erat, et 

T. 707, H. 703. Dg (208.16). reads: And quhatsumevir in the braid lopiis zveir. 

T. 716, H. 712. The Latin (533), sic ita, favors H. rather than D. and T. 

T. 728-729, H. 724-725. The Latin (541-542) reads: 

Nescls heu, perdita necdum, 
Laomedonteae sentis periuria geiitis? 

H. translates sentis very literally; T., to avoid the vulgarity and to reduce the Alexandrine 

to a hexameter, omits the word, but does translate necdum. 

T. 739, H. 735. V(549). reads: atque ohicis hosti. 

T. 750, H. 746. Hue, as in D. and T., not here; cf. V(558).: vocemque coloremque. 

H. 755. Cf. Dg(211.9).: All the cost belive of flambis scald. 

H. 770. Cf. Dg(211.29).: scherand swerd. V(580), reads: Fulmineum. 

H. 773. Cf. Dg(211.32).: Thai hurll away, ankeris wphint and raif. 

T. 775, H. 771. Cables, as in D. and T.; cf. Latin (580) retinacula. 

T. 779, H. 776. Blezv, as in D. and T. ; cf. Latin (583) caerula. 

T. 778, H. 774. Shores, as in D. and T. ; Latin (582) Litora. 

H. 778. Cf. Dg(212.8).: the....greking of the day. V(586-587). reads: 

Regina e speculis ut primum albescere lucem 
Vidit. 

T. 792, II. 788. D. and T. both read set sayle, a much less poetical phrase. 

T. 810, H. 807, Cf. V(606).: memet super ipsa dedissem. Dg(213.25). reads: And 
thaim abufe syne deid myself had laid. 

T. 827, H. 823. The Latin (616) reads : complexu avulsus luli. 

T. 832, H. 828. Dg (214.23). reads: And ly vnerdit amyddis of the sandis. 

T. 833, H. 829. Cf. V(621).: Haec precor, hanc vocem extremam cum sanguine fundo. 

T. 843. As this verse is lacking in both H. and D.. it was probably added by T. to 

remedy what seemed to be undue compression in the translation. The Latin (627-629) reads : 

Litora litoribus contrarla, liuctibus undas 

Imprecor, arma armis; pungent ipsique nepotesque. 

D. 846. Without any warrant, D. reads : 

To Sichees nurse then briefly thus she said. 

H. 853. For An was probably a scribe's misreading or misunderstanding of forth on. 

The Latin (640) reads: 

Sic ait. Ilia gradum studio celerabat anili. 

The original line was obviously influenced by Dg(215.29-30). : 

Thus said Dido; and the tother, with that, 
Hichit on furth with slow pace lyke ane trat. 

T. 868, H. 863. IVeedes, rather than weed; cf. V(648).: Iliacas vestes.- T. follows D. 

H. 866. Cf. Lb (1057-1058).: 

O dolci spoglie, mentre i fati & Dido 
Permetteuan. 

T. 873, H. 869. D. and T. remedy the Alexandrine in H. 

T. 880-881, H. 875-876. Imelmann proposes the influence of Pl(931-932). : 

Ma pur moriamo, dice, in questa in questa 
Guisa mi giova andar ne I'ombre oscure. 

The same adjective, however, occurs in Lb ( 1073-1074). r 

cosi m'aggrata 
Con questo colpo andar k I'ombre scure. 

V (659-660). reads: 

Dixit, et OS impressa toro, "moriemur inultae, 

Sed moriamur" ait. "Sic, sic iuvat ire sub umbras." 

T. 884, H. 879. Cf. Lb (1075- 1076).: 

& porte seco 
Gli auguri infausti de la nostra morte. 



218 The Poems of Surrey 

V(662). merely says: et nostrae secum ferat omnia mortis. 

T. 982. Note that D. and T. build out the line. 

T. 893, H. 888. V (669-670). favors D. and T.: Exstinxti te meque, soror. 

T. 919, H. 914. D., not sensitive to the music of a verse, reads: Deepe under her breast. 

T. 939, H. 934. V( 702-705). favors D. and T. : 

"hunc ego Diti 
Sacrum iussa fero, teque isto corpore solvo." 
Sic ait et dextra crinem secat: omnia et una 
Dilapsus calor, atque in ventos vita recessit. 

H. may be following PI (1001-1003). in neglecting to mention the idea of command: 

lo questo 
Sacrato a Pluton mando, e te da questo 
Corpo disciolgo. 

T. 932, H. 937. Dg(219.29). is responsible for the reading of H.: 

And thair with all the naturall heit out quent. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Manuscripts 

Additional 17492 (D.) The so-called Duke of Devonshire Ms. which con- 
tains Wyatt's original version of many of his poems, and additional poems by 
other writers of the time of Henry VIII. Only one poem by Surrey, No. 21, 
is represented, though the manuscript was probably in his possession as a youth. 
The manuscript is fully described, and its romantic history conjecturally worked 
out, by Miss A. K. Foxwell, A Study of Sir Thomas Wyatt's Poems. 

Bgerton 2711 {B.) Contains the revised autograph poems of Wyatt. One 
of Surrey's poems, No. 39, is included. Miss Foxwell has discussed the manu- 
script in the work cited above, and published the poems of Wyatt in The Poems 
of Sir Thomas IViat. Cf. Fliigel's earlier edition in Anglia, 17-18. 

Additional 36529 {P.) Ms. of the late sixteenth century, containing poems 
apparently collected by Sir John Harrington of Kelston (d. 1612). Among 
these poems are twenty-eight by Surrey and nine by Wyatt. Much more authen- 
tic than Tottel. Thus, to give only one illustration, the ms. version of the poem, 
"I neuer saw youe, madam, laye aparte", follows the Italian original (see p. ), 
whereas Tottel's version (see p. (^V/) departs radically from it and appears to 
be a revision by an editot who did not even know the source of the poem. Full 
catalogue description and comparative study of the manuscript may be found in 
The Manuscript Poems of Surrey, Anglia 29. 

Additional 28635 {A.). Professes to be exact copy of the so-called Har- 
rington Ms. No. 2, used by Nott. Contains eighteen of Surrey's poems, in ad- 
dition to many by Wyatt and others. Written, in part at least, after 1553, as a 
line in one of Wyatt's satires was revised to avoid giving offence to Mary. 
Though offering some emendations, it is doubtless close to the autograph versions 
of Surrey's poems. In general it agrees with P. as opposed to Tottel. Discussed 
in detail by Miss Foxwell. 

Additional 28636. Transcription of B. 

Hill (H.) Ms. owned, in early part of last century, by Thomas Hill of 
London. Used by John Nott and G. F. Nott; and the former has noted its 
variants from Tottel's versions in a fragmentary volume of his edition now in 
British Museum. Contains three of Surrey's poems. 

Harleian 78 (Harl.). Late sixteenth century miscellany, containing, among 
other papers, seven of Wyatt's poems, and two of Surrey's (Nos. 20, 21, 
and 42), and three stanzas of a third (No. 21). Comparison with the Wyatt 
autograph mss. proves it to be trustworthy, 

Har grave 205 (H.) Ms. of third quarter of sixteenth century. Principal 
contents are Surrey's translation of the fourth book of the Mneid, and, in the 

(219) 



220 The Poems of Surrey 

same hand, the tragedy of Gismond of Salerne, acted before the queen in 1568. 
For full discussion, see Imelmann, Surrey's Mneis IV in ursprunglicher Gestalt, 
Willcock, A hitherto uncollated Version of Surrey's translation of the Fourth 
Book of the Mneid, and introductory note to No. 58, p. 203. 

Editions of Surrey 

Day (John), The Fourth Boke of Virgill drawne into a strange metre by 

Henrye, late Earle of Surrey, London, (?) 1554. For discussion of date, see 
notes to 58. 

Tottel (Richard), Certain Blokes of Virgiles Aeneis turned into English 
meter, by Henry Earle of Surrey, London, 1557. 

Tottel (Richard), Songes and Sonettes written by the right honourable 
Lorde Henry Howard, late Earle of Surrey and other, London, June 5, 1557. 

Other sixteenth century editions appeared in 1557 (July 31), 1558, 1565, 
1567, 1574, 1585, 1587. 

Poems of Henry Hozvard, Earle of Surrey, with the Poems pf Sir Thomas 

Wiat, and Others , London, 1717. Copies in British Museum have ms. notes 

by T. Sewell, T. Park, and J. Haselwood. 

Percy and Stevens, Songes and Sonettes ,with Surrey's translations from 

Virgil and Ecclesia\stes and additional poems, 2 vols., London, 1807. One of 
five copies of worked sheets in British Museum. 

Nott (John), Songs and Sonnets , Bristol, 1812. Edition almost totally 

destroyed by fire. The only four copies known to exist, all lacking titlepage 
and preface, are in the British Museum. One copy has preserved fifty pages 
of the Notes ; two others furnish manuscript collations of certain editions of 
Tottel's Miscellany; and one of these contains copious notes of sources by John 
Nott and G. F. Nott. This edition furnished G. F. Nott with practically all of 
his notes, for which he gave no credit; see article in Anglia 29 on the re- 
lation of the two editions. 

Certain bokes of Virgiles Aenaeis, turned into English meter, by Henry 
Earle of Surrey, Roxburghe Club, London, 1814. 

Nott (G. F.). The works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and of Sir 
Thomas IVyatt, the Elder, London, 1815-1816 

Aldine Edition of the British Poets, Vols. 11-12, 1866. 

Arber (E.), Tottel's Miscellany {English Reprints), London, 1897. 
The Surrey and Wyait Anthology, London, 1900. 

Padelford (F. M.), Early Sixteenth Century Lyrics, Boston, 1907. 



Bibliography 221 

Miscellaneous 
Acts of the Privy Council of England (ed. by J. R. Dasent), London, 1890. 
Anstis (J.), Register of the Order of the Garter, London, 1724. 
Bale (J.), Index Britanniae Scriptorum (ed. by R. L,. Poole), London, 1902. 

Bapst (E.), Deux Gentilshommes-Poetes de la Cour de Henry VIII, Paris, 
1891. 

Calendar of State Papers, Spanish, (ed. by G. A. Bergenroth and P. de 
Gayangos), London, 1862-1904. 

Cambridge History of English Literature, Vol III, Cambridge, 1909. 

Camden (W.), Remains concerning Britain, London, 1674. 

Courthope (W. J.), History of English Poetry, London, 1904. 

Dictionary of National Biography (ed. by L. Stephen and S. Lee), London, 
1908-09. 

Dittes (R.) Zu Surrey's Aeneisuhertragung, Beitrdge zur Neueren Philologie, 
Jacob Schipper dargerbracht, Vienna, 1902. 

Domestic Letters and Papers of the Reign of Henry VIII (ed. by J. S. 
Brewer, J. Gairdner and R. H. Brodie), London, 1862-1910. 

Drayton (M.), England's Heroical Epistles, Henry Howard to Geraldine, 
London, 1598. 

Emerson (O. F.), The Development of Blank Verse: A Study of Surrey, 
Modern Language Notes, 4. 

Fehse (H.), Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte 
des Petrarchismus in England, Chemnitz, 1883. 

Fest (O.), Uber Surrey's Virgiliibersetzung, nebst Neuausgabe des vierten 
Buches, Palaestra, 1903. 

Foxwell (A. K.), A Study of Sir Thomas Wyatt's Poems, London, 1911. 
The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat, London, 1914. 

Froude (J. A.), The History of England, London, 1856-1870. 

Giustiniano (S.), Four Years at the Court of Henry VIII (tr. by R. Brown), 
London, 1854. 

Hippolito de Medici, // Secondo di Vergilio in lingua volgare volto, Venice, 
1539. 

Hoelper (F.), Die Englische Schriftsprache in Tottel's Miscellany, Strass- 
burg, 1894. 



222 The Poems of Surrey 

Hume (M. A. S.), The (Spanish) Chronicle of King Henry VIII, London, 
1889. 

Imelmann (R.)> Surrey's Aeneis IV in ursprunglicher Gestdt, Jahrbuch 
der Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, 1905. 

Douglas (Gavin), Poetical Works of (ed. by John Small), 4 vols., Edin- 
burgh, 1874. 

Koeppel (E.), Studien zur Geschichte des Englischen Petrarchismns, 
Romanische Forschungen 5. 

Leland (J.), Naeniae in Mortem T. Viati, London, 1542. 

Ijburnio (Nicolo), Lo Quarto Lihro dell' Bneida Virgiliana, con verso 
heroic uolgar in lingua thosca iradotto, Venice, 1534. 

Padelford (F. M.), The Manuscript Poems of Henry Howard, Barl of Sur- 
rey, Anglia 29. 

The Relation of the 1812 and 1815-1816 Editions of Wyatt and Sur- 
rey, Anglia 29. 

Piccolomini, (Bartolommeo Carli), // Quarto di Vergilio, in / sei primi Libri 
del Eneide, Venice, 1541. 

Saintsbury (G.), A History of English Prosody, London, 1906. 

Willcock (Gladys D.), A hitherto uncollated Version of Surrey's transla- 
tion of the Fourth Book of the Mneid, Modern Language Review, July 1919, 
April 1920, and to be continued. 

Wriothesley (C), A Chronicle of England during the Reign of the Tudor s 
(ed. by W. D. Hamilton), London 1875. 



GLOSSARY 



AccoLL, v., to embrace, clasp. Cf. Fr. accoler. 57.1054. 

AccoMPT, n., account. 31.46 

Address (e), v., prepare, make ready. 58 T. 375, H. 372. 

xA.DVERTiSEMENT, 11., warning. 39.4. 

Afraies, v., alarms, terrifies. 58. T. 241. 

Ame, n., aim, design. 22.8. 

Apeace, v., appease. 14.8. 

Affaire, Appeir, v., to become impaired. 55.16, 57.217. 

Apt, adj., prone. 7.3. 

Arke, n., chest, coffer. 38.3. 

Ass WAGE, v., diminish, fade. 43.20. 

Atgaas, at gaze. 11.44. 

Attaint, v., lay hold of, infect. 24.8. 

AuANCE, v., advance, assist. 16.9 

Avaunt, v., boast. 58. T. 646, H. 643. 

B 

Baine(d), bayne(d), v., bathe(d). Cf. Fr. baigner. 58.38. 
Bane, death. Cf . Chaucer, Troilus 602 : "For which the folk of Thebes caught 
hir bane." 13.16. 

BaYNE, cf. BAINE. 

Bayte, v., bait, allure. 31.16. 

Behight, n., promise; from verb behight. 56.60. 

Behight, pf . pple., promised. 57 AZ ; 58.290. 

Berayne, v., wet, bedew. Rare; imit. fr. Chaucer, Troilus 4.1144: "After that 

he long had . . . with his teris salt hire breest byreyned." 31.42. 
Besprent, ppl. adj., sprinkled. Cf. obs. besprengan (be-sprengan). 58. T. 887. 
Bestraight, Bestraught, ppl. adj., distraught, distracted. 58. T. 360. H. 357; 

T. 753, H. 749. 
Bett, adj., better. Freq. in Mid. E. 52.15. 
Bewraye, v., reveal, expose. 15.11. 
BuuE, adv., quickly. Cf. belive. 57.293. 
Bode, v., portend, betoken. 34.64. 

B01.NE, pf. pple., swollen. Cf. N. E. D. bollen. 57. 346, 609. 
BooivKS, n., bulks, bodies. Cf. Hamlet 2.1 : "It did seem to shatter all his bulk." 

52. 42. 

BoORDE, cf. BOURD. 

BooRDEs, Bordeth, Bourdes, v., accosts, addresses. Cf. N. E. D. board. 58. T. 

395, H. 392. 
BouRD, BooRDE, v., to mock, ( ?) to deceive. 58. T. 900, H. 895. 

(223) 



224 The Poems of Surrey 

BOWLNE, cf. BOLNE. 

BoYSTEOf's, adj., boisterous, rough. 13. 9; 58. T. 582. 
Brake, n., thicket of hushes. 2. 7. 
Brayde, v., to cry out. 58. T. 476, H. 473. 
Brent, v., burned. 57. 403. 

BrEWT(e), cf. BRUIT. 

Brittle, adj., fickle. 17. 18. 

Bruit(e), Brewt(e), Brute, n., bruit, fame, renown, tidings, din, clamor. 15. 

15; 48. 23; 49. 81; et freq. 
BuCKELED, ppl. adj., united, i. e. buckled together. 54. 4. 

BURDES, cf. BOORDES. 

C 

Caij.yng, n., summons to right conduct. 39.3. 

Carefuee, adj., full of grief, sorrowful. 11. 50. 

Carribes, prop, n., Charybdis. 20. 11. 

Cendeeing, ppl. adj., kindling. 57.936. 

Cense, n., incense. 58. T. 598, H. 595. 

Chambare, prop, n., Canibria. 29.4. 

Chapps, n., jaws. First met in 16th century. 43.17. 

Charged, ppl, adj., burdened. 56. 43. 

Chase, v., chose; obs. pt. of choose. 47. 5. 

Chaung, n., change. 31. 38. 

Chaunge, cf. chopp. 

Chopp, v., "to chop and change, an alliterative phrase in which, as the force of 
the word chop has become indistinct, the meaning has passed from that of 
to barter to that of to change": N. E. D. 43.12. 

Christael, adj., crystal. 14. 13. 

Chuse, v., choose. 34. 1. 

Ceambe, Ceame, v., climbed. 58. T. 417, H. 414. 

ClepES, n., shouts. 57. 1021. 

Ceiues, Clives, n., cliffs. 20. 11, 42. 11. 

Closures, n., enclosures. 32. 47. 

CoLDE, V. pt., coidd. 32. 8 

CoMPTE, n., reckoning; obs. form of count. 49. 31. 

Coniures, n., conspiracies; obs. and rare. 51. 41. 

CoNTYNVANCE, n., longstanding. 41. 8. 

Convart, v., convert, reverse. 33.41. 

Cornet, n., "part of a headdress, consisting of lappets of lace, or the like, hang- 
ing down the sides of the cheeks": N. E. D. 3. 12. 

County, n., count. 47. 2. 
' CoWARDiE. CowARDRY, n., cowordicc; cozvard-ry. 58.18. 

CruELNES, n., cruelty. 11. 4. 

Cure, n., care. Cf. L. cura. 57. 788. 

Currant, adj., servile. Cf. N. E. D. acciirant. 34.56. 



Glossary 225 

D 



Degrees, n., steps. 58. T. 913, H. 908. 

DerE, n., injury, harm. Cf. O. E. darn. 57.936. 

Descrive, v., see, behold. 58. T. 232. 

Desertes, n., merits. 33. 6. 

DispoYLED, pf. pple., stripped of clothes, disrobed. 31. 13. 

Distrain, v., oppress, afflict. 13. 2. 

Domes, n., judgments. 8. 6. 

DouT, n., doubt. 21. 41. 

Dowtht, v., doth. 21. 41. 

Dradfull, adj., dread fid. 32. 26. 



Easye, in EASYE SPARKES, adj., easily kindled. 22. 7. 

EftsiThes, adv., often, from time to time. 57.588. 

EiEN, Eyen, n., eyes. 57.906; 58. T. 692, H. 688. et freq. 

Embrude, Embrued, v., defiled. S7. 214; 58. 261, T. 287, 

Em pressed, ppl. adj., oppressed. 23.41. 

Endeong, prep., along. 58. T. 328, H. 326. 

Endured, ppl. adj., hardened, indurated. Rare. 32.50; 55.25 

Ensew, v., ensue. 10. 3. 

Enterprise, n., judgment in an undertaking. 17. 10. 



Faas, n., face. 10. 2. 

Fabee, n., falsehood. 11. 3. 

Falne, pf. pple., fallen. 42. 10. 

Fare, n., lot, condition. 13. 30. 

Fayne, adv., fain, gladly, 34. 42. 

Fere, Feer, FeerE, n., companion, 23. 23; 31. 46; et freq. 

Ferse, n., queen. Cf. O. Fr. fierce, from Persian. 12. 12. 

Fet, pf . pple., arrived at. Nautical ; cf . N. E. D. fetch. 57. 35. 

Fine, n., end. 57. 72. 

FoNDED, Fownded, ppl. adj., deluded, foolish; from fond, to play the fool. 58. 

T. 489. H. 487. 
FouRDE, n., ford. 22. 9. 
Frayes. cf. afraies, 58. H. 242. 
Frindlie, adj., friendly. 34. 2. 
Frtow'r, n., friar. 54. 42. 
From WARD, adv., in an opposite direction. Cf. to-ivard. 54. 1. 



226 The; Poems of Surrey 



Game, n., amusement, entertainment, jest. 34.75; 15.10. 

Gate, v., gain, reach. 57.264. 

Geare, n., foul matter, pus. Cf. Faerie Queene, 6. 12: "That spat out poyson 

and gore-bloudy gere." 58. H. 599. 
Gestes, n., notable deeds. 38. 4. 
Gin, n., trap, engine. 57. 298. 

GI.EDES, n., coals, embers, Cf. glow. 57.821 ; 58. T. 214. 
Geimsing, pr. pple., glancing. 16. 5. 
Geyns, n., glimpse. Cf. Mid. E. glimsen. 22. 46. 
GosTLY, adj., spiritual, as opposed to fleshly. 29.8. 
Greislie, Griseey, adj., frightful. 58. T. 597. H. 594. 
Gresey, adj., grizzly, ancient. 50. 39. 
GuYSE, n., practice. 50. 11. 

H 

Haat, n., hate. 11. 30. 

HablE, v., able. 11. 11. 

Haeseth, v., embraces. 42. 5. 

Hap, n., bad luck, mishap. Sometimes means good luck. 20. 13. 

Haulture, n., height, altitude. Cf. It. altura. 54. 29. 

Hartye, adj., coming from the heart. 22. 37. 

Haye(s), n., net used for catching animals. See N. E. D. for origin. 58. T. 166, 

H. 167. 
Health, Heethe, n., safety. 22. 50 ; 33. 10. 
HiGHT, pf. pple., called, named. 47. 2. 
HoGREEES, n., 'Voting sheep of the second year. Dim. of hog; cf. cock-erel. 58. 

T. 72. " 
HoETES, n., woods. 58. T. 195, H. 196. 
HooRREY, adj., hoary. 48. 13. 
Hove, v., linger, tarrey. Cf. Colin Clout 666: "The which in court continually 

hooved." 31. 6. 
Hyer, adv., higher. 32. 33. 



Imbrued, Cf. embrude. 

Imprest, pf. pple., stamped. 5. 8. 

Infeame, inflammation. 11. 10. 

loiLY, adj., jolly. 30. 7. 

Irked, ppl. adj., exhausted. 57. 742. 



Glossary 227 



Laied, ppl. adj., placed under, impressed, subjected. Tr. L. suhjectaque colla. 

Cf. laid in such uses as laid paper. 57. 954. 
Learneth, v., teaches. Cf . Romeo and Jidiet. 3. 2. 12 : "and learn me how to 

lose a winning match." 15. 25. 
Lemans, n., mistresses. Cf. Mid. E. leofmon. 49.23. 
Lese, v., lose. 17. 43 ; 22. 42. 
Let, pf. pple., hindered. 15. 6. 
List, n., desire, intention. Cf. Othello. 2. 1. 105: "when I have list to sleep." 

O. E. lust. 14. 20. 
LoFTYE, adj., heaven-inspired. 32. 29. 
LoKE, n., look. 22. 48. 
LoPEN, pf. pple, in WERE lopen=/?C(/ leaped, thrown themselves. Cf. 5^ Pap. 

Henry VIII 4.493 : "The friendes of the said traitor are loppen (run) to hym 

into Scotlaunde." 57. 741. 
Lucked, v. pt., turned out. From obs. v. luck. 57. 494. 
LusTYNESs, n., beauty of attire. A derived meaning that disappeared in the 16th 

century. 11. 2. 
Lyf.some, adj., lief some, plea\sing. Cf. N. E. D. leesome. 33. 23. 

M 

Make, n., mate, companion, husband or wife. 2. 4; 34. 7; 57. 751. 

Marie, Mary, n., marrow. 58. T. 84, H. 85. 

Meane, adj., moderate. 41. 9. 

MiNGE, v., mingle. Cf. N. E. D. ming, mingle. 2. 11. 

Moi,E, n., a sacrificial cake made of grains of spelt coarsely ground and 

mixed with salt. Cf. L. mola. 58. T. 694. 
MuTTREivL, prop n., Montreuil. 47.9. 

N 

Neck, n., a move to cover check. 12. 3. 

Ner, adv., nearer. 14. 3. 

NiGGiSHE, adj., niggardly, stingy. 52. 58. 

None, in my none, myn ozvn. 14.29. 

Notes, Noteth, v., denotes, characterises. 58. 18. 

O 

Or, adv., ere. 15. 16; 22. 14. 

Other, subst., others. 44. 2. 

Ouerthwartes, n., adversities, rebuffs. 42. 12. 

Overlaid, ppl. adj., in overlaid with number==crushed by numbers. 57. 542. 



228 The Poems of Surrey 



Pal,e, n., stake. 2. 6. 

PaIvME Playe, n., an old game resembling hand-hall. C£. Strutt, Sports and Pas- 
times 2. 3, 85. 31. 13. 

Passed, v. pt., cared; usually w. neg. 17. 3. 

Patching, adj., knavish, acting like a "patch." 54. 46. 

Payne, n., pains, careful effort. The plural in this sense was just coming into 
use in Surrey's time. 34. 20. 

Paynt, v., color with a view to deception. 15. 26. 

Peason. n., peas. Cf. pESE. Cf. N. E. D. 7.6. 

Peoble, adj., pebble. 32. 25. 

Percele, n., portion. 11. 51. 

PerE, confused w. pear, aphetic form of appear. Cf. N. E. D. pear, peer. 11. 33. 

Persy, prop, n., Persia. 39. 1. 

Pese, n., pea. Cf. peason._ 17.11. 

PhERES, Cf. EERE. 

Phrentic, adj., phrenetic, frantic. 57. 410. 

PiGHT, V. pt., pitched. 57. 40. 

Plage, Playe, n., ivound. 58. 2. 

Playe, n., entertainment. 31. 38. 

Playne, v., lament, mourn. 4. 10. 

PonderETh, v., weighs. The original meaning. 22. 8. 

Prayes, n., praise. 31. 26. 

PrEa, v., prey. 34. 31. 

PrELOKEd, v. pt., looked with anticipation. Rare. 54. 33. 

PrEST, adv., quickly. 58. T. 789, H. 785. 

Pretense, n., intention, purpose. 23. 34. 

Purchase, v., obtain by great effort. 38. 6. 



Quod, v., quoth, said. 23. 7. 



Q 



R 



Rakhell, adj., careless, unrestrained. Mid. E. rakel, rash, corrupted to rake hell, 

whence, by shortening, rake. 30. 8. 
Range, v. pt., rang. 38. 2. 

Rashed, pf. pple., pulled violently. Cf. N. E. D. rash. 58. T. 827. 
Raught, v. pt., grasped, clutched, laid hold of. 24. 62; 57. 272. 
Recure, v., recover, become whole. 39. 5. 
Recure, v., succor. 47. 9. 
Rede, v., advise, urge. 12. 9. 
Reduceth, v., brings back. 11. 14. 



Glossary 229 

REFarde, v., restored, given hack. Var. of refer. 28. 59. 
Refuse, n., refusal. 34. 64. 
REpayre, n., concourse of people. 13. 19. 
ReprEst, pf. pple., pressed hack. Latinism. 11. 27. 

Repugnant, adj., opposite, antithetical.- The orig. meaning; Cf. O. Fr. re- 
pugnant. Cf. Hamlet 2. 2. 493. 5. 10. 
Repulse, n., check. 14. 18. 

Requvre, v., request. Customary sense in 16th century. 33. 6. 
Revested, pf. pple., reclothed. 30. 3. 
Rewe, v., rue. 10. 5. 
Rewthe, n., ruth. 31. 21. 
RiGHTwisE, adj., righteous. 32. 66. 
RiuES, v., splits. 42. 9. 
RooN, v., run. 14. 20. 
RoouNYNG, adj., running. 14. 6. 
Row, n., company. Rare ; Cf . N. E. D. 26. 2.7. 



SaluiTh, v., salutes. Cf. Mid. E. saluen. 33.25. 
Sarve, v., serve. 11. 9. 
Saught, v. pt., reached. 57. 280, 1054. 
Scathe, n., harm. 54. 4. 

SENCE, cf. CENSE. 

vShadoo, v., conceal. 4.7. 

Sharp, v. pr., imagine, conceive. 32. 33. 

Shkne, adj., shining. Cf. adj. sheen. 57. 971. 

Shitt. v., shut. 55. 28. 

SiiOPE, V. pt., prepared. Cf. N. E. D. shape. 57. 577. 

Sickles, adj., free from, sickness 22. 29. 

SiGHEs, SiTHES, n., scythes. 58. T. 689, H. 685. 

Sight, v. pr., sighed. 43. 4, 25. 

SiTHES, n., sighs. 57. 1023. 

Skills, v., matters. -It skills not common idiom in 16th century. 33. 4. 

Slacke, n., looseness. 11. 37. 

Slipper, adj., slippery, unsure. Cf. Othello 2.1.243: "a slipper and subtle 

knave." 22.49. 
Sluggish, adj., didl, stupid. 23. 13. 
Smart, n., pain. 11. 29, et freq. 

Smoky, adj., having appearance of smoke, hazy. 30. 11. 
Soote, adj., sweet. Cf. Mid. E. sote. 2. 1. 
Sower, subst., the sour. 33. 37. 
Sowndles, adj., soundless. 32. 25. 
SowNDYD, ppl. adj., sounded. 53. 30. 



230 The Poems of Surrey 

SpEnce, n., expenditure of money. 49. 76; 52. 61. 

Spii.t, pf. pple., lost. 22. 14. 

Speaid(e), ppl. adj., unfurled, spread out. 58. T. 783, H. 779. 

SpoorE, n., spur. 14. 19. 

Spot, v., defile, mar. 17. 3. 

Stack, Stake, v. pt., stuck. 58. 6. 

Stale, n., meat offered to a falcon that has gone in search of prey, to lure it back. 

34. 60. 
Staye, n., support, prop. 33. 25. 
Stithe, n., stithy, anvil. 46. 7. 
Streames, n., currents, streams, rays of light. So used by Chaucer, Lydgate, 

and court poets. 14. 13; 20. 22. 
Styckes, v., hesitates, scruples. 27. 6. 
SwARMES, n., troops. 31. 23. 
SymplE, adj., ingenuous. 22. 4. 

T 

Targe, n., shield. 40. 6. 

Thirijng, ppl. adj., piercing. 58. T. 91, H. 92. 
Tho, adv., then. 24. 25. 

ThrepE, v., 7irge, press. Lincoln Dialect. 54. 3. 

Throwing, ppl. adj., agonizing, suffering. Cf. throe, to suffer. 58. T. 927. 
TiCKEEiv, adj., inconstant. 7. 4. 
To, adv., too. 15. 7; et freq. 
Tother(s), the other(s). 22. 6; 53. 32. 
Traynd, v. pt., allured, enticed. Cf. Mid. E. trainen. 34.54. 

Trayne.s, allurements. Cf. Macbeth 4. 3. 118: "Macbeth by many of these 
trains hath sought to win me." 15. 14; 22. 47. 

U 

Ugsome, adj., ugly, hideous. S7. 102. 

Vnegaee, adj., unequal. 22. 8. 

Vnneth, adv., 7vifh difficulty, hardly. Cf. O. E. uneafe. 33.33. 

Vnwtst, v., pf. pple., unknown, unobserved. Cf. wiTE. 23. 15. 

Unvv'roken, ppl. adj., unwreaked, unrevenged. 57. 884; 58. T. 879. H. 874. 

Vpsupped, pf. pple., supped up. 31. 44. 

Ure, VrE, n., use, practice, operation. Cf. inure. 13. 28; 17. 23; et freq. 

VsE, n., practice, custom. 11. 24. 

V 

Vaade, v., evade. 50. 13. 
Vapored, ppl, adp., moistened. 30. 12. 
Vaunte, n., glory, credit. 34. 34. 
Vnpareited, pf. pple., unperfected. 46. 15. 



Gl<OSSARY 231 

Vnright, n., wrong. 32. 16. 

Vnwist, v., pf. pple., unknoivn, unobserved. Cf. wiTE. 23.15. 

Veare, n., spring foliage. 30. 4. 

Venume, Venvme, n., venom. 5. 10; 14. 16. 

Ver, prop n., Spring. 23. 19. 

• W 
Wan, old pt. of win. 44. 4. 
Wheare, subst., place. 33. 34. 
Whii.es, adv., at times. 56. 3. 

Whist (e), v., to become silent. Cf. hist, hitsht. 57. 1 ; et freq. 
Whourded, ppl. adj., hoarded. 50.64. 
WiTE, Weet(e), v., to knozv, learn, understand. Cf. wit, Cent. Diet., Dial. Diet. 

17.6; et freq. 
WoNNiNG PEACE, n., dwelling place. Cf. O. E. wunung, dwelling. 57. 842. 
Wood(e), adj., mad. Cf. O. E. wod ; Woden. 57. 805; 58. 263. 
WooN, pf. pple., won. 22. 13. 

WoRTHE, in IN worthe, in good part. 14. 23 ; 27. 26. 
WouRKE, v., work. 32. 16. 

Wrasteth, v., turns about, changes. Cf. wrest. 26. 21. 
Wreck, v., to wreak vengence. 57. 542. 
Wrethed, ppl. adj., twisted. Cf. writhed. 58. H. 765. 
Writhed, Wrytiied, v. pt., turned. 58. 282. 
Writhen, ppl. adj., twisted. 58. T. 769. 
Wroke, pf. pple., revenged. Cf. wreck. 57. 770. 



Ybrethed, pple., breathing. 31. 30. 

Yeedon, Yolden, ppl. adj., submissive. Cf. Chaucer, Troiluy 3. 96: "humble 

i-yolden chere." Cf. yoed. 22. 43; 51. 54. 
YerThe, n., earth. 11. 2. 

YoLD, pf. pple., overcome. From yield. Cf. yeldon. 57. 827. 
YouThe, n. pi., youths. 31. 23. 



APPENDIX 

On the authority of England's Helicon, a collection of lyrical and pastoral 
poems published in 1600, two of the poems attributed to unknown authors in 
Tottel's Miscellany should be accredited to Surrey. These pastorals are spirited 
and musical, and the diction is clearly reminiscent of Surrey ; it is not improb- 
able that they are his work. The poems are herewith submitted. 

1 
The; Complaint of Harpalus 

Phylida was a fayer mayde, 

And fresh as any flowre, 
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayed 

To be his paramour. 

Harpalus and eke Corin 5 

Were herdmen both yfere, 
And Phillida could twist and spin 

And therto sing full clere. 

But Phillida was all to coy 

For Harpelus to winne, 10 

For Corin was her onely ioye 

Who forst her not a p3'nne. 

How often would she flowers twine. 

How often garlandes make 
Of couslippes and of colombine, 15 

And all for Corins sake. 

But Corin he had haukes to lure 

And forced more the field; 
Of louers lawe he toke no cure, 

For once he was begilde. 20 

Harpalus preualed nought, 

His labour all was lost, 
For he was fardest from her thought, — ■ 

And yet he loued her most. 

Therefore waxt he both pale and leane 25 

And dry as clot of clay : 
His fleshe it was consumed cleane. 

His colour gone away. 

His beard it had not long be shaue. 

His heare hong all vnkempt : 30 

A man moste fitte euen for the graue, 

Whom spitefull loue had spent. 

(233) 



234 ' The Poems of Surrey 



His eyes were red and all forewatched, 

His face besprent with teares : 
It semde vnhap had him long hatched 35 

In middes of his dispayres. 

His clothes were blacke and also bare, 

As one forlorne was he ; 
Vpon his heade alwaies he ware 

A wreath of wilow tree. 40 

His beastes he vept vpon the hyll, 

And he sate in the dale, 
And thus with sighes and sorowes shryll 

He gan to tell his tale : 

"O Harpelus !" thus would he say, 45 

"Vnhappiest vnder sunne, 
The cause of thine vnhappy day 

By loue was first begone. 

For thou wentest first my sute to seeke, 

A tygre to make tame, 50 

That sets not by thy loue a leke 

But makes thy grefe her game. 

As easye it were for to conuert 

The frost into the flame. 
As for to turne a forward hert 55 

Whom thou so fain wouldst frame. 

Corin, he liueth carelesse, 

He leapes among the leaues ; 
He eates the f rutes of thy redresse : 

Thou reapes, he takes the sheaues. 60 

My beastes, a while your fode refrayne 

And herken your herdmans sounde, 
Whom spitefull loue, alas ! hath slaine, 

Throughgirt with many a wounde. 

Oh happy be ye beastes wilde, 65 

That here your pasture takes ! 
I se that ye be not begylde 

Of these your faythfull makes. 

The hart he fedeth by the hynde, 

The bucke hard by the doo, 70 

The turtle doue is not vnkinde 

To him that loues her so. 



Appendix 237 

The ewe she hath by her the ramme, 
The yong cow hath the bulk, 
^ The calf with many a lusty lamme 75 

Do feede their honger full. 

But, wellaway, that nature wrought 

Thee, Phillida, so f aire ! 
For I may say that I haue bought 

Thy beauty all to deare. gQ. 

What reason is it that cruelty 

With beauty should have part? 
Or els that such great tyranny 

Should dwell in woman's hart? 

I see therfore to shape my death 85 

She cruelly is prest, 
To thend that I may want my breathe. 

My dayes been at the best. 

O Cupide ! graunt this my request, 

And do not stoppe thine eares : 90 

That she may fele within her brest 

The paynes of my dispayres. 

Of Corin, that is carelesse, 

That she may craue her fee. 
As I haue done in great distresse 95 

That loued her faythfully. 

But sins that I shall die her slaue, 

Her slaue and eke her thrall. 
Write you, my f rendes, vpon my graue 

This chance that is befall. 100 

'Here lieth vnhappy Harpelus, 

Whom cruell loue hath sla3^ne ; 
By Phillida vniustly thus 

Murdred with false disdaine.' " 

T., p. 128. Title : Harpelus complaynt of Phillidaes loue bestowed on Corin, who loued 
her not, and denied him that loued her. — 68 for makes read face. 

Variants in second ed. :— 1 fayre. — 45 Harpalus.— 68 line in text.—\{)Z whom Phillida. 
— 104 Hath murdred with disdaine. 

Variants in England's Helicon (Bullen's ed.) :— 2 As fresh.— 3 herdsman.— 6 herdsmen. 
—23 furthest.— 26 clod.— 29 been shave.— 36 midst.— 39 he always.— 52 a game.— 53 As easy 
were it.— 54 a flame.— 60 reap'st.— 62 hark.— 65 beasts.— 102 By cruel love now slain.— 103 
Whom Phyllida.— 104 Hath murder'd with disdain. 



236 The Poems of Surrey 



The Complaint of Thestieis 

Thestilis is a sely man, when loue did him forsake, 
In mourning wise, amid ye woods thus gan his plaint to make : 

"Ah ! wofull man," quod he, "fallen is thy lot to mone 
And pyne away with carefull thoughts, vnto thy loue vnknowen. 

Thy lady thee forsakes, whom thou didst honor so 5 

That ay to her thou wer a f rend, and to thy self a foe. 

Ye louers that haue lost your heartes desyred choyse, 
Lament with me my cruell happe and helpe my trembling voyce. 

Was neuer man that stode so great in fortunes grace. 
Nor with his swete, alas ! to deare, possest so high a place 10 

As I, whose simple hart aye thought him selfe full sure. 
But now I se hye springyng tides they may not aye endure. 

She knowes my giltlesse hart, and yet she lets it pine, 
Of her vntrue professed loue so feble is the twine. 

What wonder is it than if I berent my heeres, 15 

And crauyng death continually do bathe my selfe in teares ! 

When Creusa, king of Lide, was cast in cruell bandes. 
And yelded goodes and life also into his enemies handes. 

What tong could tell hys wo? Yet was hys grief much lesse 
Then mine, for I haue lost my loue which might my woe redresse. 20 

Ye woodes that shroud my limes, giue now your holow sound, 
That ye may helpe me to bewaile the cares that me confound. 

Ye riuers, rest a while, and stay the stremes that runne, 
Rew Thestilis, most woful man that hues under the svmne. 

Transport my sighes, ye windes, vnto my pleasant foe ; 25 

INly trickling teares shall witnesse bear of this my cruell woe. 

O ! happy man wer I, if all the goddes agreed 
That now the susters three should cut in twaine my f atall threde ! 

Till life with loue shall ende, I here resigne my ioy : 
Thy pleasant swete I now lament whose lack bredes myne anoy. 30 

Farewel ! my deare, therfore farewell ! to me well knowne ; 
If that I die, it shalbe sayd that thou hast slaine thine owne." 

T., p. 165. Title : The complaint of Thestilis amid the desert wodde. — 24 that lined 
vnder sunne. 

Variants in second ed: — 15 heares. — 24 as in text. — 29 al ioy. 

Variants in England's Helicon :—l is omitted.— 2 moumful. — 5 Thy nymph forsakes 
thee quite.— 6 but to. — 23 your streams.— 24 Rue Thestilis, the wofull'st man that rests under 
the sun. 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

Page 

Alas! so all thinges nowe doe holde their peace 45 

Although I had a check 50 

As oft as I behold and see 52 

Brittle beautie, that nature made so fraile 47 

But now the wounded quene, with heuy care 122 

Dyvers thy death doo dyverslye bemone 80 

Eache beeste can chuse his feere according to his minde 73 

From pensif fanzies, then, I gan my hart reuoke 84 

Ffrom Tuscan cam my ladies worthi race 68 

Geue place, ye louers, here before 56 

Giue eare to my suit, Lord! fromward hide not thy face 92 

Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exyle 72 

Gyrtt in my giltlesse gowne, as I sytt heare and sowe 65 

If care do cause men cry, why do not I complaine 66 

If Cipres springes — wheras dame Venus dwelt 46 

I neuer saw youe, madam, laye aparte 46 

In the rude age when scyence was not so rife 80 

In winters iust returne, when Boreas gan his raigne 62 

I, Salamon, Dauids sonne. King of lerusalem 83 

I that Vlysses yeres haue spent 57 

Laid in my quyett bedd, in study as I weare 79 

Like to the stereles boote that swerues with euery wynde 86 

London, hast thow accused me 70 

Love that doth raine and hue within my thought 46 

Marshall, the thinges for to attayne 78 

My Ratclif, when thy rechlesse youth offendes ^7 

Norfolk sprang thee, Lambeth holds thee dead 82 

Of thy lyfe, Thomas, this compasse well mark 42 

(237) 



238 The Poems of Surrey 

Page 

O happy dames, that may embrace 58 

Oh, Lorde, vppon whose will dependeth my welfare 93 

O lothsome place! where I 54 

Phylida was a fayer mayde 233 

Set me wheras the sonne dothe perche the grene 47 

So crewell prison! how could betyde, alas . 69 

Suche waywarde wais hath love, that moste parte in discorde 59 

Syns fortunes wrath enuieth the welth 57 

Th' Assyryans king — in peas, with fowle desyre 77 

The fansy which that I haue serued long 48 

The golden gift that nature did thee geue 48 

The greate Macedon, that out of Persy chased 77 

The Sonne hath twyse brought forthe the tender grene , 49 

The soote season, that bud and blome furth bringes 45 

The soudden stormes that heaue me to and fro 75 

Thestilis is a sely man, when loue did him forsake 236 

The stormes are past, these cloudes are ouerblowne 76 

They whisted all, with fixed face attent 97 

Thie name, O Lord, howe greate is fownd before our sight 91 

Thoughe, Lorde, to Israeli thy graces plentuous be 94 

Though I regarded not 55 

To dearly had I bought my grene and youthfull yeres 64 

When I be thought me well, vnder the restles soon 88 

When rag>'ng loue, with extreme payne 51 

When sommer toke in hand the winter to assail 61 

When that repentant teares hathe clensyd clere from ill 89 

When Windesor walles sustained my wearied arnie 68 

When youthe had ledd me half the race 53 

Wher recheles youthe in a vnquiet brest 75 

Wrapt in my carelesse cloke, as I walke to and fro 64 

W. resteth here, that quick could neuer rest 81 

Yf he that erst the fourme so lively drewe 48 



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